


Fifth Floor

by HoForWonHo



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Drinking, Drug Use, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Mild Language, Slow Burn, slight angst, this fic was a way for me to get back into writing again tbh so it's a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 54,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6091474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoForWonHo/pseuds/HoForWonHo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wonwoo lives on the 3rd floor of an apartment complex and Mingyu lives on the 5th, and Wonwoo can't shake Mingyu's image from his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Minghao's Roommate

Wonwoo lays on on the grass, fingers sprawled, as he soaks in the sun’s rays. He indulges in the nostalgic scent of summer and slow sounds of West Coast rap, as he drowns out the material world. The air is crisp. It’s rare when humidity is absent during this season, so he decides to enjoy letting the sunlight dance lightly upon his skin. His newly dyed chestnut hair collects a slight sheen from the outside lighting making his hair look almost fake. Every aspect of his pleasing surroundings seems too surreal. However, the cushion of green beneath him creates a slight irritation on his skin, causing him to itch after his prolonged stay. For the time being, the pros heavily outweigh the cons, but he knows he can’t stay out much longer because he, unfortunately, has responsibilities to attend to before the day wastes away. With much hesitation, he lugs his lazy form up from the grass, and retreats into his house.

The one-story house Wonwoo grew up in is all too familiar. Drawings from elementary school hang loosely by magnets on the refrigerator and the once vibrant yellow walls have dulled down to a pastel banana. The mahogany cabinets in the kitchen are in desperate need of replacement, but they’ve remained unchanged since he could remember. There are photos of his mother and him spread throughout the living room and hallway, leading up to both bedrooms. His house is by no means large, but fairly comfortable for just the two of them. Lemon scented soap from the newly washed dishes somehow is able to fill its sweet, yet tart, aroma throughout the rooms, attaching slightly to each item in the house. Wonwoo has become accustomed to being told he smelt of fresh citrus whenever anyone is near him, usually most people would enjoy compliments of the like, but Wonwoo would much rather stray away from odd interactions with strangers.

“Wonwoo is that you?” Wonwoo’s mother calls from down the hall. “I put away your bedding while you were outside. Are you ready to finish packing?”

While he is quite confident in his packing abilities, he would not dare refuse his mother’s offers of aid, so he simply lets her do what she wants with his belongings since he doesn't have anything to hide .

It has been ten years since Wonwoo’s father had passed. The death of his father meant a rough few years for his mother and him, but they've grown closer from the loss. Since he was only nine, it had been his mother who had taken the majority of the blow. With the thought of so many more years until her son is grown, and all the time he will have to live with out a father constantly weighing down on her, she had nearly driven herself mad with depression. Many nights had been spent by the small fireplace as Wonwoo sits calmly next to his sulking mother. She would complain constantly of how her efforts to pray his father back to life had been useless, sobbing through her sentences, and wetting her hands with her tears. After those years of hardship had ended, Wonwoo decided to dedicate himself to his mother and her happiness.

Wonwoo shuffles his way down the hall and into his room; air from open window tickles his neck as he enters. “My room looks so empty. I mean, it's not like I had much in it before, but I hate when it looks so bare.” He sighs as he picks up one of his pillow pets that he'll sadly be leaving behind and tosses it on his twin-sized mattress.

“I’m proud of you for having a job already lined up,” his mother states. Of course delivering fried chicken wasn’t ideal; the helmet is ridiculous, and riding a moped throws his masculine all-black-look down a few notches. Fortunately, it paid pretty well. “I am also proud that you’ve been able to find an apartment with Soonyoung. I’ve always thought he was good for you. He’s definitely helped you break your habits of isolating yourself in your room.” His mother said to him with joyful eyes through thick-rimmed glasses. He couldn’t remember how tall his dad was, but he certainly did not get his height from her.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo replies with a curl to his lips, slightly smiling. Soonyoung had been his randomly assigned roommate last year. He’s a few centimeters shorter, a much better dancer, and more social than Twitter. It worked out well, and by the end of their Freshman year, they ended up creating a close friendship. “He’s definitely the shining star he claims to be. Anyways, we should probably finish packing up before dinner. I want to be completely packed and ready before I leave tomorrow.”

After what seemed like an eternity, Wonwoo’s room is thoroughly packed into his car, leaving only the driver’s seat clear.

He searches for any last items that he might have missed. His bed is made up with his mother’s old rose colored sheets and comforter, not suiting his personality. At least they’re clean. His old Spiderman alarm clock, paint-chipped piggy bank, sunglasses, and academic awards are scattered on the top of his dresser. Where his desk would normally be, was only a side table with a few books stacked upon each other. Everything was where it should be. When he returns, he knows there will be quite a bit of dusting to do. If he had thought his room was bare before, he feels now as though it is deserted.

His stomach grumbled angrily. Apparently he hadn’t realized how long he spent working on his room. From his room he calls to his mother, “Can we order pizza tonight? I don’t want you to cook, and honestly, I don’t feel like cooking either. I’m spent.”

“Yeah sure honey, order whatever you like. I’ll still eat it.” She replies quickly, engrossed in her television drama.

Waiting for food after he placed an order only seems to increase his hunger, so when it arrives, he can’t help himself. Wonwoo quickly devours every slice his mother neglects to eat. He hadn’t thought of the consequences, and is quickly placed into a drowsy state- from which there is an extremely high chance that he will crash at any moment. His eyes begin to droop as he walks in a zombie-like state toward his room. He decides it’s a sign to call it quits for the night since tomorrow will be extremely busy.

\--------------------------

It’s always difficult when he leaves home, but it’s nice to finally be living on his own. Wonwoo reflects on his good-bye to his mother while he makes his drive to Seoul. She, as most mothers do when their children leave home, watched him leave, waiving franticly with a smile plastered to her face that didn’t quite meet her eyes, which threatened to burst with tears. He hopes she didn’t get any of those tears on her glasses. This is always a situation he tries to avoid, but in moments such as these, they’re inevitable.

On most occasions, the drive from Cheongju to Seoul seemed to drag, but today it speeds by in a flash. The city creeps up on him without a warning, and he is suddenly engulfed in large buildings and hectic traffic. Thankfully, he knows how to navigate this area well after a year of exploration. He then is able to find his apartment building with hardly any trouble.

Once he was able to find a parking space, Wonwoo slowly pulls out two boxes and begins to carry them to his apartment. By the time he reaches the third floor, he realizes that he shouldn’t have chosen the two heaviest boxes in his car. His arms are aching and threatening to detach at any moment. Why did he even act like he had the muscle mass for this? Carefully placing the boxes on the floor with his already overworked arms, he unlocks the door. He barely has enough time to take his hand off of the knob before he’s engulfed in an overwhelming hug by Soonyoung. Maybe not quite a hug, but more like a koala attached to a tree in a tight embrace.

“WOW WONWOO SUMMER WAS EXTREMELY BORING WITHOUT YOU. I MISSED YOU SO MUCH. I MADE US FOOD ALREADY AND I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU TO GET HERE ALL MORNING! YOU STILL SMELL LIKE LEMONS! I MISSED THAT SCENT SO MUCH!”

Wonwoo stands uncomfortably with his arms crushed to his side. He attempts to break free, but this only causes Soonyoung to tighten his grasp. The messy faded blue hair tickling at his neck is beginning to drive him insane. His skin smells of maple syrup and vanilla, causing Wonwoo to become slightly queasy from the overbearing sweetness. “Hey Hosh. As much as I missed you, and as happy as I am to see you, it would be amazing if you could give my arms circulation again.”

“Oops. Sorry,” Soonyoung apologizes with haste. “Here, let me help you with your boxes since I’ve seemingly broken your arms.”

Soonyoung grabs a box as Wonwoo reluctantly picks up the other with exhausted arms. He feels defeated from the effort he has put into struggling with two boxes up three flights of stairs. Luckily, the movers had brought up the large items like the television, couch, beds, desks, and other heavy furniture pieces the boys would have broken their backs attempting to carry them up to their apartment.

 

“What did you do this summer?” Soonyoung asks Wonwoo with a struggled breathing as he brings the last box up the stairs.

“When I don’t have you, I don’t have a reason to go out and meet new people,” Wonwoo says, struggling to get out of his mouth through ragged breathing and exhausted lungs, “so I stayed at home, reading novels and playing my guitar.”

“Oh man.” Soonyoung says sounding slightly upset. “If I would’ve known you were going to stay in, I would have invited you to my house for a few days. I could have brought you into the studio to meet some of my new friends. You would’ve loved all of t-”

Soonyoung is so engulfed in his conversation with Wonwoo, he ends up hitting the toe of his foot on the edge of the stairs. Thankfully his years of dancing created fast reflexes, so he is able to saves himself and Wonwoo’s boxed items.

Wonwoo looks around his room realizing all of the work that will need to be put into emptying these boxes. _Eh._  He thinks to himself, as he struggles to keep his eyes open. _I_ _’ll do it tomorrow._ He unpacks his bedding hurriedly. It is only a matter of seconds before his legs would give way, causing him to plummet to the ground, so he made his bed with haste. Once his face hits the pillow, the world goes black.

\----------------------------------

Knock! Knock! Knock! “Wonwoo wake up!” The loud banging of Soonyoung’s fist on the door makes Wonwoo jolt upward, panick, and topple over onto the carpet.

“It would be nice if you would speak at a lower volume sometimes,” Wonwoo replies, hand rubbing against his newly injured head. “What do you want?”

“What I want is for you to wake up and open this door,” Soonyoung replies with a tinge of annoyance. “I have a question for you.”

“Why does this question involve me opening my door?”

“Because I want to see your shining face!” Soonyoung seems all too eager to ask his question.

 _For fuck’s sake, what could be this important?_ “Fine. I’m coming, I’m coming.” Wonwoo lazily uses his palms to push himself up from the carpet and into a standing position. He pushes a few boxes away with his feet, and proceeds to open the door.

“So, I called my friend from my summer dance classes over, and I wanted to know if you were willing to have an unpacking party. Please?” Wonwoo glances over Soonyoung’s shoulder as he speaks in order to grab a good look at the stranger in his living room. His slightly tousled hair is taking on a lavender color that seems to be a dye over what used to be… pink? Blue? Both? Those arms...arms and legs that are just a tad too elongated to fit him. What was the look this kid was going for? A lost puppy? Those large, deep brown, friendly eyes, are somewhat innocent, yet inviting. Wonwoo feels the need to protect him as though he is too fragile to be on his own. “I mean well not really a party, but more like we blast music, dance, and unpack our shit. Since there were only two of us and a bajillion of these boxes, I figured we could use an extra hand.” Soonyoung suggests all of this without properly introducing the puppy-like figure in the background.

“Hello, I’m Minghao.” He says shyly with a small smile and bow.

“Ah, the puppy speaks, AND he has a name,” says Wonwoo jokingly.

“Isn’t he a precious little thing?” Soonyoung asks excitedly, ruffling Minghao’s hair. “He was really shy when joining my classes because he moved here recently from China. His Korean has improved so much since I met him, and I’m proud to call him my dongsaeng. He’s super nice. Also, he’s a year younger so he’ll just be beginning university courses. Luckily he had someone as wonderful as me to help him find a place two floors up. Dorms are a nightmare that I do not want any of my friends to live through. I’m such a great friend.” He states while beaming proudly, as his uniquely shaped almond eyes crease upwards.

“You speak so much that he isn’t even able to tell me these things himself, but I guess you’re a pretty okay friend…” Wonwoo says this with a smirk while continuing with, “It really is nice to meat you Minghao. Thanks for the help tonight. We can definitely use it.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem, I would rather be here than alone in my apartment. My roommate said he was going to be gone for awhile, although when I left, he seemed to be searching for something important in his pile of barely unpacked clothing. I didn’t ask. Not my problem.” He lets out a lighthearted laugh. Wow, for such a puppy, he has little bite to his bark.

“I’m sure he found it. Anyways, since the introductions are out of the way, how’s about you open this box?” Wonwoo asks as he shoves a box across the carpeted floor.

\----------------------------

A few hours passed, and the dancers eventually got bored. They completely stopped packing, investing themselves in feeling the beat and rhythm of the music. Typical. Wonwoo, continued packing while giving the distracted dancers evil glares from time to time. They were so close to finishing. Why did they have to end their ‘party’ when there was only little further to go? Three boxes remained of Soonyoung’s, while only two were left of Wonwoo’s. Wonwoo thinks about shoving a box toward the dancing machines so that they’d fall, but thinks better of it. His wondering mind is brought back to reality and he reaches for a box. This one is labeled ‘kitchen’, which means since he unpacked his dishes first, he gets to decide where their kitchenware will go. Should he make it hard on Hoshi? Should he place all the dishes where he would have difficulty reaching them? “Hey Hosh!” Wonwoo yells over the blaring bass of the music. “If you want dishes where you can reach them you go-”

There’s a sudden knock at the door.

Wonwoo pulls his phone from his pocket to check the time. 2:30 am? Already? Wait. Who would be knocking on the door at this hour? Their music was loud, he admits, but were his neighbors THAT bothered by it? It is going to be a rough year if his neighbors couldn't take a little noise. Before he could even think to stand up, Soonyoung bolts to the door, opening it without looking through the peephole.

“Hey man, can I help you?” He asks. Wonwoo was still unable to see the stranger since Soonyoung had only opened the door wide enough to peak his head through.

“Yeah I left my keys somewhere in my apartment. I thought Minghao would have been back by now, so I hadn’t bothered to search hard enough to find them.” He sounds a bit uneasy, as if he had made a mistake in the apartment number. “He told me he would be here, so I came down for his extra set of keys. I might’ve remembered the number wr-”

“Yo Ming!” Soonyoung calls for Minghao, who had quickly run to the restroom once the door banging had disrupted his dancing. There is a sound of the toilet flushing, and a quick washing of hands, then Minghao appears once again. “This kid says he’s your roommate and that he’s locked out.”

Soonyoung opens the door wider in order for the younger to decipher whether the boy was his roommate or not. Finally, Wonwoo was able to get a good look of Minghao’s roommate.

 _Fucking hell._ He silently cursed to himself. Wonwoo felt as though he would fall to the ground if he had not already been on his knees. This boy was clean cut, tall, dark, and handsome. Long legs looking fit in his dark ripped jeans that stretched up to his structured hips. He’s wearing a baseball tee that clings loosely to his body. Wonwoo thought he, himself, was tall, but the stranger looks like he might have a good inch or two on him. To top it off, the medium brown hair he had is messy, as if he had run his hands through his hair a few too many times. _Man, I’d like to run my fingers through his hair._.. _Fuck. Get your head out of the gutter. He’s just the type of man mom warned you about._  Although he looks kind, he also seems mischievous. There's that special glint to his eyes. Quickly, Wonwoo shakes his head, realizing he is gawking in awe at this boy, and returns to pulling dishes out of the box. Thankfully, the handsome roommate of Minghao’s leaves with a set of keys for their apartment, not noticing Wonwoo’s staring from a minute prior.

“Minghao,” Wonwoo calls and then says in a hopefully convincing tone, “I know we’re all tired, plus we were able to unpack a majority of the boxes, so I think it’s time to go to sleep. Thank you for helping us out, you definitely made a difference. You should follow your roommate back to your place. I don’t think you would want him to accidentally lock you out. Speaking of your roommate, what’s his name? I don’t believe you ever told us?”

“Mingyu.”


	2. Oops.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Wonwoo delivering chicken to your local handsome shirtless Mingyu.

**Syllabus week.**

Wonwoo taps the eraser of his pencil on his lower lip as his eyes gloss over. Everyone seems to be attending this semester’s first COM 221 lecture. Their bodies are creating a stuffy effect on the already uncomfortably warm atmosphere. He would’ve been worried about sweat stains if he wasn’t wearing dark colored clothing. Only twenty more minutes of his short, balding, middle-aged professor droning on about mandatory attendance. _We’re here for an education. Why would we not attend?_ Wonwoo thinks to himself before mindlessly nibbling at his eraser. _Ew. Why did I do that? You’re getting too distracted. Okay. Fifteen more minutes. Act interested for only fifteen minutes. You can do that, right?_

Suddenly, he startles awake when a student shakes his shoulder, telling him the professor just dismissed the class. Looks like he couldn’t stay interested after all.

As Wonwoo walks across campus, he sees a mess of pale blue hair walking to the Performing Arts building. Soonyoung must have a dance class. No surprise there. Wonwoo thinks to himself why they haven’t exchanged their schedules yet, but he’ll probably ask after his shift tonight. As he’s about to call over to Soonyoung, a skateboarding figure smashes into his waist. This causes him to momentarily lose his footing, but he’s able to quickly steady his legs, saving himself from what could’ve been a disastrous fall.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” The apology from the skater is seemingly genuine. “I was running late for class, so I tried to pick up my speed. I ended up missing the ground when stepping down, and flew forward.” He says as he shyly scratches at his head, awkwardly smiling at the ground. _Man, does this kid have a smile or what?_

Wonwoo pats him on the shoulder, “You’re good. It wasn’t a heavy hit. I didn’t even fall.”

“You almost did though, and that could’ve been must worse. Well if an injury shows up later, I’ll give you my number and you can tell me. Okay?” he states while fidgeting at the hem of his pastel yellow shirt. Wonwoo can’t help but compare this kid to the sun with his blinding smile and light colored clothing. Even if he had been angry at him from the collision, he couldn’t stay that way for long.

“Okay,” Wonwoo agrees. “But I’m going to need your name first.”

“It’s Seokmin.” he says and he puts his contact information in Wonwoo’s phone. “All my friends call me DK though. I can’t remember how it started, but either name works.”

“Sounds good. I’m Wonwoo. I’ll see you around then?” asks Wonwoo with a small smile.

“Most definitely.” Seokmin replies, giving him a wink as he walks off.

\----------------------------

The walk home takes Wonwoo longer than expected. His mind keeps drifting to the interaction he had with Seokmin, and he can help but think of how well his white shorts paired with his olive skin. Unfortunately, his drifting mind made the journey home distracting. This means, by the time he arrives at his place, he only has a few minutes before he has to leave for work. Quickly, he changes into his uniform, grabs his keys, and flies back out the door. “FUCK.” He blurts to himself as he taps his pockets, realizing he left his wallet in his other pants. In a flash, he tumbles into his apartment, grabs his wallet, and rushes down the stairs. He’s able to start his car with the remote from his keys, which makes leaving just a fraction faster.

After weaving quickly through traffic, he parks his car in the back with four minutes to spare. _Damn. That one was close._ Wonwoo thinks as he enters the quick-service chicken joint. He finds an open locker to place his jacket and water bottle into, and attaches his nametag to the upper left corner of his shirt. While punching in, his manager greets him with, “Hello Wonwoo, I’m glad you came back for another semester. You were a great employee last year.”

“Thanks Mrs. Yung, it’s nice to be back.” Wonwoo replies with only slight truth. Although the joint paid well, he hated the fryer burns he would get on occasion. The back of the kitchen feels like a sauna, causing the employees to sweat incessantly. When the days are busy, the kitchen workers are as compact as a sardine can, unable to move quickly or freely. His least favorite takeaway from kitchen employment is how he would smell when he returned home. The yellow and black uniform would reek of fried chicken and body odor. No. He will not miss that.

This year, Wonwoo was able to snag the delivery job. This means all he has to do is ride a moped scooter around, deliver fried chicken, and collect tips. When he doesn’t have any orders to deliver, he works the second register. No longer will Wonwoo be the smelly kitchen worker. The only downside is the embarrassing helmet he has to wear. _Why would someone choose to have their employees wear a chicken head helmet?_ Wonwoo thinks as he places his horrendous helmet on his scooter. _Why couldn’t they have chosen a nice black helmet to fit my aesthetic? Whatever. It could be worse._

Monday is one of their slowest days, so the tips are lacking, and the orders are mostly for in-store pick-up. It was 9:20pm which means they’ll start to close down soon. Since Chicken for the Seoul had been a ghost town his entire shift, Wonwoo yawns as he places his arm on the counter, ready to lower his head to his hand.

“Wonwoo!” His manager calls from the back, breaking him from his mental trip to outer space. “We have one more delivery for you before we close.”

“Okay I’m on it.” Wonwoo replies quickly while jotting down the address. He realizes the delivery’s location is in his apartment complex. Thankfully he will not have to waste his data on navigation. Grabbing his helmet off of the company’s cream colored scooter, he straps it to his head, kicks up the stand, and starts the moped.

Traffic is light, which means he is able to arrive faster than usual. Wonwoo hopes that after this delivery, he will be able leave his shift a few minutes early. Finding a place to park his moped proves to be more of a challenge than he had anticipated, but he eventually finds one. He checks his phone for the time. “Good, still ahead of schedule.” He dismounts the scooter, grabs the chicken, and heads for the stairwell.

“527. 527. 527.” He chants to himself as he climbs the stairs so he won’t forget the apartment number. “527. 527. 5-”

A black-haired girl rushes past him, causing his focus to break as he falls to his right against the railing. “ _There is no need to be rushing out like that. She could’ve seriously injured someone. By someone I mean me._ Her hair was slightly askew, so he guesses she left her apartment in a hurry. _She’s probably late for an event._ He still would have thought to brush his hair before leaving, but she can probably fix hers in her car. Now that he thinks back on it… was she wearing her shirt inside out? She must’ve REALLY been late. _Maybe I should tell her. He ponders for a millisecond. Meh, it’s her problem, not mine._  He continues up the stairs without looking back.

Almost out of breath, Wonwoo is finally able to conquer the horrendous set of stairs. “Mental note:” he starts, “Tell Hoshi to only invite Minghao down to our place because there is no way in hell I am climbing those stairs again.”

Walking down the hall he reads the apartment numbers. _521\. 523. 525. Ah! 527._  Wonwoo knocks quickly, eager to deliver his order and bounce.

The door opens to a boy around his age. It takes Wonwoo a second to recognize the handsome figure in front of him as Minghao’s roommate. “Oh sweet, you got here really fast. I didn’t even have time to put on a shirt. Sorry about that.” Wonwoo glances at his slender, toned figure. He feels a slight blush creeping up to his cheeks. Mingyu’s sweatpants hang just below his hips, emphasizing his smooth lower abdomen. As he rakes his eyes up, he notices dark purple marks across Mingyu’s chest and up his neck. _Well this explains the girl and her chaotic looks. Judging by her appearance, she must’ve had a damn good time._

He quickly snaps his eyes from Mingyu’s body to the ground, suddenly realizing he had been staring at all of him except his face. His slight blush is now a full face of scarlet. Eager to finish the transaction, Wonwoo quickly mumbles the total.

“Here you go,” Mingyu says handing him the money with a smirk. Apparently it was obvious that Wonwoo had been checking him out.

“Are you sure you don’t want your change?” Wonwoo questions, unable to meet Mingyu’s eyes for more than .5 seconds.

Mingyu lets out a toothy grin, causing butterflies to form in Wonwoo’s stomach, as he replies with, “Nah. I feel bad since your work makes you wear that awful helmet. Anyways thanks.” He opens up his chicken boxes as he shuts the door.

 _SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT._  Wonwoo internally screams to himself as he hurries back down the five flights of stairs. _How could I have been so careless? Well, I know that I didn’t know it was Minghao’s apartment, but still. Why’d I forget to take off the stupid chicken helmet for just this order? Why did I decide getting home ten minutes early was worth the rushing? This is the exact reason why my luck with boys is non-existent._

Wonwoo hurries up onto his scooter, kicks the stand up, and drives back to work.

Once at work, he notices that the kitchen employees are beginning to close down the fryers. Hoping to leave early to escape his embarrassment, Wonwoo makes his way around to the back, looking for Mrs. Yung.

“Wonwoo,” she calls from the walk-in fridge, “It’s 9:50 so we’re closing up shop for the night. We won’t be in need of a delivery boy or cashier, so you’re free to go.”

“Thanks!” Wonwoo gratefully punches out, more than ready to head home. There’s homework and unpacking that needs to be done, but in reality, he wants to keep his mind busy and away from the earlier events. He grabs his bag from the set of lockers and walks to his car, thankful it isn’t the scooter.

His drive home was short, as usual, and Wonwoo makes his way to the stairs. He thinks about how nice his lower body will look after a year of walking up and down three flights of stairs multiple times throughout the day. These stairs are also reminding him of the disheveled looking girl and Mingyu’s smirk. “You need to snap out of it. He’s not yours. He’s doesn’t like boys. Get over it.”

He enters his apartment and his nose is immediately bombarded with spices and scents of what seems will be a delicious dinner. “Sup Hoshi, what’s for dinner?”

“You think I’m cooking for you? We’re university students. It’s every man for himself.” Mingyu can’t tell if he's serious, since Soonyoung’s face iss busy looking at contents in the pan in front him.

“Ouch. I thought we were in this together.”

“You’ve been living with me for how long? Yet you still can’t tell when I’m fuckin’ with you? There’s so much food here, there’s no way I could eat it all.” Wonwoo scoffs as he finds that difficult to believe. “Plus, we both know you’re a horrible cook.” Soonyoung says as he turns around and laughs, eyes turning up at the corners.

“Thanks Hosh.” He replies lightheartedly, knowing too well that he can’t even get his rice to soften. Wonwoo sits on a stool and rests his arms on the table attached to the kitchen.

“Rough first day back at work?” Soonyoung asks while grabbing bowls from the cabinets.

“Sort of…” Wonwoo hesitates before continuing. “Remember Minghao’s roommate from yesterday? Tall, great teeth, brown hair, dreamy ey-”

“Yeah I get it, I get it, you find him attractive.” He cuts off Wonwoo while rolling his eyes.

Wonwoo clears his throat. “Well, he ordered chicken, but when I arrived, he was shirtless, and a girl was leaving in a rush with a flushed face. It was awkward. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“Damn… he’s straight? Minghao and I were trying to figure out if he liked girls or guys. I had my money on him playing for the same team. Maybe it will take Minghao a little longer to figure that out so I won’t have to pay him soon.”

“Good luck with that.” Says Wonwoo as he lightly picks at the vegetables in his bowl with his chopsticks. “It’s the first day of classes and he already had a girl over. I’d tell Minghao to invest in ear plugs if Mingyu’s the type of guy he seems to be.” Soonyoung laughs and almost chokes on the mouthful of rice he was chewing. Wonwoo snickers before grabbing his bowl and taking it to the sink.

“You aren’t gonna to finish that?” questions Soonyoung.

“Nah. I’m not that hungry tonight.”

“Well in that case, pile it on mine because I don’t want my hard work to go to waste.” As Soonyoung scrapes the remains of Wonwoo’s dish into his bowl, Wonwoo wonders how such a thin kid could retain the copious amounts of food he puts in his body.

\---------------------------

**1:35am**

As much as his body is begging for sleep, Wonwoo’s mind is busy and distracted. Now that he is no longer preoccupied with homework and unpacking, he is only able to focus on one thing: Mingyu. He replays the mortifying event from his shift. It’s like a nightmare that he can’t wake up from. Suddenly he plays his day from the beginning. Memories of sunshine and a wide smile flood to the front of his brain, pushing Mingyu aside. Seokmin.

Wonwoo pulls out his phone and skims through his contacts until he sees who he was searching for.

 **Wonwoo:** hey it’s wonwoo, that kid you almost killed with your body.

 **Seokmin:** well, if you put it that way, you could be anybody ;)

 **Wonwoo:** oh my god… ANYWAYS, i’m texting you to tell you that i’m injury free. i escaped any internal damage.

 **Seokmin:** thanks for the update. i still feel bad tho. i’ll make it up to you somehow with bitter drinks. you wanna go get coffee some time this week?

 **Wonwoo:** i’m always down for free coffee B-)

 **Seokmin:** okay see you thursday after classes. :))))) i’ll send you the name of my favorite place later. i gotta sleep now bc i have an 8am

 **Wonwoo:** see ya

Wonwoo sets his alarm and places his phone on the bedside table. He closes his eyes, and for the first time that night, he thinks about someone other than Mingyu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I had to wait to get an account for ao3, and by the time I had received my account stuff, I had this chapter done. SOOOOOO TWO IN ONE DAY. TA-DA! (the editing kind of went down hill as i became lazier so sorry if there are mistakes. i'll edit them later if i see em).


	3. Coffee Shop Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stranger at the door and some cake in the face.

**Thursday.**

 

As soon as Wonwoo opens the door to his apartment, he tosses his backpack toward the nearest chair and plops himself, face first, onto the living room couch. The last day of classes always feels like the longest and most tiring, and he could feel his brain function decreasing by the minute. He grabs his phone out of his back pocket and lifts his head up to check the time. _It’s 1:15 and I told Seokmin I would meet him at the café at 2:45. If I close my eyes now, I can get an extra hour of sleep._ After his contemplation and nap planning, he locks his phone, places it on the ground, and lowers his head back down to the couch pillow. The cushions underneath his exhausted limbs absorb the rest of his consciousness as he drifts into darkness.

 

There is a knock on the door that causes Wonwoo to wake up from his long awaited nap. He rubs his drooping eyes before glancing at the clock on the microwave. 1:45pm. _Whoever is at the door better have a damn good reason for waking me up early._ There’s a moment of hesitation, and a yawn from Wonwoo, before a second set of knocks occurs. Slowly, he kicks his feet off the couch, stretches his arms, and shuffles his body to the door. He quickly opens it with a scowl on his face that instantly softens as soon as he makes eye contact with the nap disturber. “Hey, uh, what are you doing here?” Wonwoo asks, extremely confused as to why Mingyu is standing in the doorway.

 

Mingyu rests his left arm on the door frame before he speaks up. “Okay, so this might sound crazy, but I’m locked out again, and I was hoping Minghao was here so I could grab his keys again. I didn’t know where else to go, and I remembered that he was here with you and your roommate the other day.” Something about the darkness in his eyes makes his excuse slightly less believable, but Wonwoo plays along.

 

“Minghao’s not here right now, but I can text Hoshi-”

 

“Hoshi?” Mingyu questions with a raised brow.

 

“Soonyoung, sorry it’s just a nickname I have for him. Anyways, I can text him to come home with Minghao after they’re done with their dance classes.” Wonwoo suggests before continuing. “But…uh…you can come in and chill inside if you want. I’d hate for you to be sitting outside this whole time.”

 

“Oh really?” replies Mingyu as the glint in his eyes seems to intensify.

 

“Yeah. Just sit anywhere. Do you want water?”

 

“Generous host.” Mingyu says as he makes his way to the kitchen. “I’m sure I can grab water myself though. Where are the cups?”

 

Wonwoo hurries to the cabinets. “They’re right here don’t worry I got-”

 

Mingyu reaches over Wonwoo to grab a cup, his chest lightly pressing against Wonwoo’s back. Although they are barely touching, Wonwoo feels Mingyu’s heat and his breathing falters for a moment. _Is it stuffy in here? Should I open a window? I suddenly feel like im suffocating._ Mingyu smells like fresh cinnamon mixed with sandalwood. It’s comforting and Wonwoo feels as though he’s back home for a sliver of a second. He’s unsure of what to do until Mingyu leans down near his ear, breath tickling him slightly, to ask, “Is there ice in the freezer?” Wonwoo freezes, stuck in a trance, unable to comprehend the question Mingyu is asking. “Well?” Mingyu asks a little louder, clearing his throat.

 

The loud noise emitted from Mingyu’s throat causes Wonwoo to jump backwards, knocking Mingyu into the counter. There’s a clashing sound of metal hitting the tiled floor, and both of the males rush down to grab the- “KEYS?!” Wonwoo exclaims. “Okay seriously? Why would you make up this stupid excuse of being locked out when your keys are in my hand? Well, they were in your pocket, I mean, I have them now. But seriously? Now I have to text Hoshi and tell him some stupid shit like ‘Oh he ended up putting it in the wrong pocket of his backpack’ or somethi-”

 

“Shhhh.” Mingyu places a long finger on Wonwoo’s mouth, instantly stopping the ranting that might have continued otherwise. Wonwoo couldn’t help but notice how large and masculine Mingyu’s hands were. Before Mingyu speaks he couldn’t help but wonder how well his fingers would fit in between his. “You might look slow and quiet, but when you get nervous you don’t ever shut up, do you?” He lets out a quick laugh, finger still placed firmly on Wonwoo’s lips. “I noticed how you looked at me the other day. You were eyeing me like I was a freshly baked pie that you couldn’t wait to devour. Since I know where you live, and know how good-looking you are. I might as well help you indulge in a slice.” Before Wonwoo is able to protest Mingyu grabs Wonwoo’s shoulders and spins him around so he is now the one against the counter. His firm grip makes it nearly impossible for Wonwoo to escape, but does he necessarily want to? No, the warmth from his hands is radiating throughout the entirety Wonwoo’s body. Mingyu’s hands are also the only objects keeping Wonwoo standing steadily. His heart is about to beat through his rib cage as Mingyu leans closer. As his mouth inches forward, Wonwoo inhales the scent of cinnamon gum, helping him relax. He glues is eyes shut and his whole body feels as though it’s vibrating. Wait…is he vibrating?

 

Wonwoo quickly opens his eyes, head jolting up from his couch pillow, tearing his vibrating phone from his pocket. The vibrating stops before he is able to answer, but he checks the time. 3:30pm. _Shit._ 3 missed calls. _Double shit._ It was all a dream.  _Triple Shit._ He hurriedly dials Seokmin and waits impatiently for him to answer. “Hey, I’m so sorry! I fell asleep on the couch and forgot to set an alarm. I swear I’m not ditching you. As a matter-of-fact I’m grabbing my keys and my wallet right now.”

 

“Okay that’s a relief. I didn’t take you for someone who would stand me up. On the other hand, I’ve only talked to you a few times, so I was just telling myself that you had a good reason for running late.” Seokmin replies lightly, but there’s a tone of relief behind his words.

 

“I’m not too positive napping counts as a good reason. I’m still extremely sorry.” Wonwoo apologizes once more while giving himself a onceover in the bathroom mirror.

 

“Well, in my book, naps are necessary for survival, so I guess it’s a good enough reason. I’m at the Carat Café. Not the orange kind of carrot but the diamond kind of carat. Okay, but they do have really good carrot cake.” Seokmin giggles. “See you soon?”

 

“Yeah, I’m just heading out.” Wonwoo replies as he slides speedily out of the door. He finds the location of the café from a mapping app on his phone, and sees it’s only a short walk away. _Well if I walk REALLY fast it should only take me 5 minutes._ He thinks as he rushes down the stairs and onto the sidewalk. Slightly flustered, he walks with haste to his destination, frequently glancing down at his phone for guidance. As his pace begins to slow, not used to putting forth this much physical effort, he sees the sign for the café. The words are made from a large silver set of lights that of which are constantly flashing. It’s a tad too gaudy for his taste, but it fits Seokmin’s personality, not doubt about it.

 

Before crossing the street, he takes a few moments to compose himself. He most definitely is not about to be a panting, sweaty, wind-blown-haired monstrosity in front of Seokmin. As his breathing evens, he crosses the street, and enters the Carat Café. The interior is surprisingly toned down in comparison to the sparkling sign. Since the lights are more of a subtle glow, rather than the harsh ray of light he was expecting, the atmosphere is soothing. The walls are lined in glass bookshelves supporting a multitude of novels with the covers spray painted a metallic silver.  Wonwoo notices each table is a glossy white, and the seats were a royal purple. Overall the theming seemed to be well done, a little flashy, but not at all trashy.

 

“Woonwoo!” Wonwoo’s head turns to the direction of the call and he’s immediately staring at the world’s largest smile. _I swear this kid is permanently stuck this way._

“Hey, I’m really sorry about being so late.” Wonwoo apologizes while making his way to Seokmin’s table. He was seated in the far left corner with his back to the bookshelves.

 

“Honestly don’t even sweat it, I was a few minutes late myself, so it could’ve been worse.” Seokmin glances at Wonwoo, who is standing awkwardly with his hands clasped in front of him. “Aren’t you going to sit down?”

 

“Don’t you want something to drink? I’ll pay since I’m here almost an hour later than we’d planned.” Wonwoo offers as he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.

 

“Um… I’ll just have an iced Americano, no sugar, no milk.” Wonwoo starts to walk to the counter. “Oh and grab a carrot cake slice for us to split!”

 

A few minutes after placing his and Seokmin’s orders, Wonwoo’s hands are filled with an iced Americano, a cup of black coffee, and a slice of carrot cake. As he carefully attempts to balance these items while walking to the table, the side of his right foot catches on the back of a chair, causing him to lurch forward. Seokmin is able jump out of his chair in just enough time to catch and steady Wonwoo by his shoulders before anything too drastic happens. _Wow, it has only been an hour and someone else is gripping my shoulders. Wait. That was a dream. Snap the hell out of it, Wonwoo._ “I guess we can’t really see each other without you nearly falling and scraping your handsome face. It’s a good thing I’m here to save you, right?” He winks as he grabs his drink and the cake before sitting down.

 

Wonwoo pulls out his chair and sits down. “My friends say,” _or at least they all would if I had more than Hoshi,_ “that I’m clumsy, but I don’t think so. Clumsy people fumble and fall. I never fumble, I never fall, I only trip.”

 

“Are you positive that fumbling and and tripping aren’t the same thing? You fumble around if you misstep… right? It surely seems like it’s the same thing.” He smugly looks down at his cup before taking a sip.

 

“Whatever. I’ll still say they’re different. It makes me feel better.” Wonwoo laughs before taking a bite of the carrot cake. “Wow! You were right this is so good!”

 

“See? I told ya.” Seokmin replies while breaking off a piece of cake with his hands as his smile turns into a mischievous grin. “You look like you should have a little more.” He says as he shoves cake in Wonwoo’s face, missing half of his mouth. The frosting is most prominent on the side of his right cheek and the tip of his nose than on his lips.

 

“Oh my god, you did NOT just do that.” Wonwoo grabs a chunk of cake and slams it into Seokmin’s mouth, taking a little extra time to smear the frosting onto his chin. He then uses the frosting left on his thumb to smear a line across Seokmin’s forehead. “Simba.” He says before they both burst into a fit of laughter. “Well now my face is a mess and so are my hands.”

  

“I’m feeling the same way, so I’ll grab us a few napkins.” Seokmin says, scooting out of his chair. As he walks past Wonwoo, he swipes a finger on the tip of Wonwoo’s nose, catching a bit of frosting, and casually licks it. “Cream cheese icing pairs well with carrot cake, don’t you think?” He asks, not expectant on a reply, as he heads off in the direction of the condiments stand.

 

After each boy finishes wiping their face clean of cream cheese frosting and carrot cake crumbles, they find themselves losing track of time. They speak of their majors, their dreams, their aspirations. They bond over their favorite music, their favorite foods, their favorite television shows. They even realize they’re wearing each others’ favorite color. Blue is an exquisite color on Seokmin.

 

The startling sound of Wonwoo’s phone receiving a call pulls them out of their thrilling discussion about how aliens are real, and they’re working for a secret government like the Men in Black. He looks on his phone’s screen to see who it is. _Hoshi._ “Hey Hosh, what’s up?”

 

“Hey I thought we were grabbing dinner at that New Thai place down the street. Is that still a go?”

 

“Yeah, of course, I just got caught up in something. I’ll be home in 15 or so.”

 

“Okay but I’m _so_ hungry, I feel like I’m gonna need five plates of curry chicken.” Soonyoung whines audibly through the phone.

 

“As long as you’re paying for it.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes internally. “Okay I’ll see you soon…ish.” He hangs up and returns to speaking with Seokmin. “Hey, I promised my roommate I’d go check out this new Thai place down the street from our apartment, so I’ve gotta dip for now.”

 

“Yeah that’s totally fine.” Seokmin replies while fidgeting with his empty plastic cup. “We’ve been here quite a while, but I’ve had a really good time.”

 

“Soonyoung suggested we have a movie night on Saturday, and he’s inviting a friend or two.” Wonwoo shifts his eyes from Seokmin’s down to the clean plate that once held the carrot cake. “We’re watching all of the Harry Potter movies and I’ll be bringing home fried chicken from work. My roommate is a little too energetic at times, but he keeps events like this interesting. So…uh… do you wanna come?”

 

Seokmin flashes his signature smile before replying. “Sounds like I now have plans for Saturday night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG FOR AN UPDATE. I got really busy with school and then I had the flu. It was a rough time. Near the end, I didn't spend much time editing, so whoops oh well. ALSO MEANIE WILL DEVELOP. I SWEAR NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE MORE MEANIE. I have plans for it.


	4. Drunk In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just your typical Harry Potter marathon.

**Saturday.**

 

Wonwoo rushes back into Chicken for the Seoul, sweaty, exhausted, and more than ready for his shift to be over. Technically, his shift ended over an hour ago, but three co-workers called out only minutes before their shift was supposed to start, leaving him to deal with the mess they had created. Saturday is the busiest day of the week, and the chaos is overwhelming. Wonwoo is flustered and overrun with stress. He’s supposed to be a delivery boy, and now his whole shift has been a mess of running orders, manning the register, and lending an extra hand in the kitchen.

 

While wiping off the excess moisture from his forehead, Wonwoo sets his chicken helmet on the break room table. He grabs his phone out of his front pocket, only to see multiple texts from Soonyoung.

**Hoshi:** hey! what time are you off? :D

 **Hoshi:** okay, you’re not here and we’re all getting bored.

 **Hoshi:** FINE. D:<

 **Hoshi:** WE’RE STARTING THE SORCERER’S STONE WITHOUT YOU AND YOUR BOYFRIEND!

 **Hoshi:** we’re starting a drinking game already.

_This kid, I swear…_

_Seokmin isn’t even my boyfriend anyway…_

 

“Hey Wonwoo, I’m sorry this whole mess happened to you, but you’ve been so helpful.” Mrs. Yung says with sympathy. “The replacements arrived while you were making your last delivery, so you’re free to go.”

 

Wonwoo thanks her while clocking out. Rushing, he grabs his belongings from his locker, and heads to his car. _Great. I still have to shower and I know they’re already going to be a little tipsy by the time I’m home. They’re probably almost on the second movie now, and Hoshi knows it’s my favorite. Maybe he’ll delay it a little for me...? Probably not._ During his short drive home, he contemplates skipping a shower, but decides against it. _If we’re going to be in close quarters, I don’t really want to torture Seokmin with my sweaty body. OHMYGOD SEOKMIN._

 

Pulling into the driveway he yanks the auxiliary chord from his phone and dials Seokmin’s number. _Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up!!_

 

“Hello?” _Thank God._ Is it him, or does it sound slightly noisy in the background?

 

“Hey, sorry I’m running late. This seems to be an ongoing theme here, but I swear it isn’t my fault this time! We were understaffed at work, so they had me stay an hour longer than I was scheduled.” Wonwoo sighs before continuing. “Also, sorry for completely spacing on my address, but I can text it to you right now. I think you’ll only be missing the first movie. There are still seven left, so I’m sure we’ll survive.”

 

“Don’t even sweat it.” Seokmin laughs. “My friends Jisoo and Jeonghan were invited as well, so I tagged along. Looks like you’re the only one missing Professor Quirrel and his troll in the dungeon.”

 

“Damn. I’ll be right up then.” Wonwoo takes his keys out of the ignition, grabs his wallet, and steps out of his car. While walking at a quick pace to his complex’s staircase, refusing to exert the energy to run, he throws his right arm over his shoulder, pressing the lock button on his car key remote. Once he reaches the stairs, he takes them two at a time, eager to see Seokmin, and also eager to shower. _I hope no one is expecting a hug when they see me. It’ll just be uncomfortable for the both of us._

 

He places his keys in the lock to open the door, but before he is able to turn the knob, the door swings open, and he’s engulfed in a strong embrace.

 

“FINALLY YOU’RE HERE!” Soonyoung squeezes him a little tighter, obviously ignoring Wonwoo’s body odor. “Woah, man. You’re smellin’ a little funky.” Maybe the drinking has been slowly dulling his sense of smell.

 

“Yeah, I was just about to hit the shower. Work was a little rough today.” Replies Wonwoo as he squeezes out Soonyoung’s tight grip. Although he is able to walk through the doorway after escaping the affections of Soonyoung, the lack of physical touch doesn’t last long. Soonyoung wraps his arm around his best friend’s waist, leaning his head to the right, and squishes his cheek against Wonwoo’s shoulder. So, Soonyoung might be a little tipsy, but his sunshine demeanor only multiplies from this. If anything, he warms up the party with his radiance.

 

“LOOK WHO’S FINALLY HERE!!” Soonyoung announces loudly to the group seated in the living room. It isn’t as if the boys hadn’t already paid attention to Wonwoo’s entrance, especially with the ever-so-enthusiastic greeting provided by his roommate.

 

Wonwoo places a grin on his face. “It’s nice to see you all, even the new faces, but work was insane and a shower is more than necessary, not only for my health, but for yours as well.” He does a quick once over of the group, glancing at the newcomers as he walks to his room.

 

Now that his boxes are unpacked, he feels as though his room is finally his own. There are two random movie posters hung on his wall, given to him by Soonyoung. Wonwoo hadn’t requested the posters, but Soonyoung brought a few home from work last year, so he kept his favorites. All of his clean clothes are either folded neatly in his dresser, or hung up in his wardrobe. His dirty ones, on the other hand, are stacked in a pile instead of inside of his hamper.

 

Stripping his clothes, Wonwoo makes his way to the bathroom. Although he’s trying to be time efficient, he manages to trip while slipping out of his briefs, and slams into the shower’s glass door. “OW! SHIT!”

 

“HEY MAN! YOU OKAY IN THERE?” Soonyoung calls through the apartment’s walls.

“Yeah, don’t worry!” Wonwoo replies, rubbing where his shoulder received the majority of the damage.

 

\--------------------

 

The warmth of the shower wraps itself around Wonwoo’s body as he takes his time rinsing off the excess body wash. He knows he’s missing a few of his favorite scenes from the film, but he’s overworked, and the water lightly massaging his muscles is helping him unwind. It’s times such as these when he doesn’t regret spending entirely too much money on eucalyptus shampoo and conditioner. With drooping eyes, Wonwoo leans his back against the tiled shower wall. It’s cool sensation starkly contrasting with the heat from the water. The chill shakes him from his almost sleep, and his spirits fall because he knows he must leave the shower to marathon with his, probably now drunk, friends.

 

He turns off the shower and reaches for the- _Well, shit._ No towel. Wonwoo releases a groan of annoyance before stepping out of the shower, water continuously dripping off of his body, soaking the floor. Walking through the bathroom doorway and into his room, he searches for an article of clothing he can use to cover himself. There’s a grey long-sleeve shirt laying on the top of the pile of dirty clothes. Picking it off the top of the mound, he ties it around his waist so he’s able to cover the front half of his naked appearance.

 

The closet containing towels is in the hallway just outside of his room. _What if someone sees me in....this state?_ Thinking of the new faces he saw, he inwardly cringes.

“Fuck it.” Wonwoo sighs as he opens his bedroom door. Walking swiftly to the closet, thankful no one is in the kitchen or entrance, he pulls a towel out and places it around his arm.  Turning around, feeling accomplished, he begins to walk back to dry off and change.

 

“Wow. I was told there would be dinner, but didn’t know it came with such a nice view.”

Wonwoo spins around, hands over shirt, trying to keep what could be covered in place. His eyes avoiding the owner of the voice. Slowly, he tears his eyes from the person in the hallway’s feet and makes his way up to their face. _You have to be shitting me right now. Why is it always him?_

“I seem to be meeting you during your,” Mingyu clears his throat for dramatic effect. “Shall we say, _daring_ fashion choice days.”

 

At this point, Wonwoo’s face is so hot that it must be melting off. “Yeah…um… I’m gonna go put on clothes now so…” He shuffles backwards, making sure not to expose his posterior once more, and grasps for his bedroom door handle.

 

“Damn!” Mingyu shouts as Wonwoo closes his door. “I was really feeling your ass-less skirt look!” He rolls his eyes at Mingyu’s laughter heard from the other side of the wall.

 

As Wonwoo attempts to shrug off what may be the most embarrassing moment in his entire life, he drys off, adding his towel to the mountain of dirty clothes on his right. _What should I even wear? It shouldn’t be hard to choose. Maybe my house colors? I do look good in yellow, and black is also my entire wardrobe._ He yanks his favorite yellow sweater off of the hanger and slides it over his body. _I might look like a bee if I wear these pants._ Wonwoo thinks to himself as he steps into his ripped black jeans. _Whatever. I’m sure they’ll get what I’m going for._

After he messes with his hair for a few minutes, he’s ready to marathon.

 

Stepping into the living room, Soonyoung immediately jumps out of his seat and grabs onto Wonwoo. “Wow you took 500 years, dude!” He plops onto the couch, Wonwoo settling on top of his lap, still in Soonyoung’s grasp.

 

“Are you guys together or something?” The question coming from a new face. His arm is wrapped around a smaller figure with lavender hair.

 

“Yo. I’m as straight as Jun.” A seemingly tall boy with sharp features un-glues his eyes from the TV screen to join in the conversation.

 

“Hell yeah! We’re bros who get hoes!” Jun air high-fives Soonyoung, giving Wonwoo an opening to leave his lap and slide in next to Seokmin.

 

Now free to observe the room, he’s surprised by the amount of people they are able to squeeze into such a small living room. Jun is in one of their two lounge chairs, legs spread wide enough to accommodate for another new face seated on the carpet. The boy leaning against Jun’s chair has a crooked smile, and a cross earring in the upper part of his left ear. Something tells Wonwoo that he’ll probably end up becoming the motherly figure of the group. Speaking of motherly figures, an extremely handsome man with dark brown hair flowing slightly past his shoulders, is sitting in the other lounge chair. Minghao sits on the chair’s armrest, mindlessly playing with the other’s hair. _Hmmm… he must be that tutor Minghao has been constantly talking about._ Of course the tallest one in the room is laying on his stomach, head resting on his hands in front of the television. _How can someone look so attractive when they’re in such a childish position?_

 

“Grasp your mandrake firmly.” Pomona Sprout’s assertive voice pulls Wonwoo from his current observations.

 

“I have something you can firmly grasp,” says the long haired man to Minghao.

 

Minghao delivers a harsh blow to his upper arm, “Yah! Seriously, Jeonghan?! You’re so ridiculous.” Everyone else seems to enjoy his inappropriate comment, especially Jun who is almost toppling over onto the boy in front of him.

 

“Jun could you please sit correctly?” questions the boy falling under the weight of Jun.

 

“Jisoo, you’re no fun!” Jun gives Jisoo’s shoulder shove before returning to his seat.

 

Soonyoung claps his hands together, silencing the rowdy bunch of boys. “We have two newcomers to our Harry Potter Party.” He grabs the remote, pausing the movie. “Mingyu. Wonwoo. You need to make yourselves a drink, but before that happens, you need to know the rules.”

 

“What ridiculous drinking game are we playing this time, Hoshi?” Wonwoo questions, obviously not amused.

 

“It’s the Ultimate Harry Potter Marathon Drinking Game!” Soonyoung begins applauding himself but stops as soon as he realizes no one else is clapping. “Anyways, we have the basic set of rules. Throughout each movie, you must drink when: Harry’s scar hurts, there’s a quidditch match, the Weasley twins are up to no good, the Great Hall is decorated, and when Snape is acting suspicious.”

 

“Oh this will be a breeze” Mingyu scoffs.

 

Soonyoung raises his hand. “Hey! I’m not finished here! The best part is that on top of the main rules, we have rules for each individual movie.”

 

“Okay, but can we restart this one?” complains the lavender haired individual. “We only drank for the first movie and my buzz is wearing off.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. We’ll restart it.” Soonyoung grabs the remote and the screen returns to the movie menu. “You’re _so_ going to regret you complained after you hear the rules for The Chamber of Secrets.”

 

“I have a chamber of secrets that you can explore.” Jeonghan says with a smirk before he is once again pelted by Minghao’s fist.”

 

“WOULD YOU PLEASE LET ME EXPLAIN THE RULES SO THAT WE CAN START?!” Once the room is silent, Soonyoung begins reading the rules off of his phone. “We drink when: Mrs. Weasley yells,” _You’ve gotta be shitting me. We’re going to die._ “… when Lucius Malfoy gets mad, when a weapon that isn’t a wand is used, and when Gilderoy Lockhart tries to sell himself or his books.”

 

“We’re gonna die!” exclaims the boy with his arms around the smaller. _At least he agrees with me._

 

“What’s wrong Seuncheol?” his boyfriend playfully pushes him, “Not up for the challenge?”

 

“This game is child’s play.” The comment coming from the upturned smirk of Mingyu’s mouth. _Who invited him anyway?_

 

Wonwoo turns his head toward Seokmin, placing his arm around his shoulders. “Are you ready for an adventurous night?”

 

“I was born ready” Seokmin’s radiant smile appears once more as they intertwine their hands.

 

\--------------------

 

“Don’t do that! There are _people_.” The boy Wonwoo now knows as Jihoon smacks Seuncheol’s hand away from where it had begun to slide up the younger’s shirt.

 

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is about halfway through, but no one is paying attention anymore. Jisoo, Soonyoung, and Jun are laying on the ground, trying, and not quite succeeding, to restack the Jenga pieces they continue to knock over. Every time one block falls, they end up laughing and ruining the block tower. Wonwoo’s vision is beginning to become a bit blurry, so he begins to rise from the couch to grab a glass of water.

 

“Wonwoo don’t leave me!” Seokmin whines whiles pulling him back to the smooth cushions of the couch. _Why are people SO NEEDY when they’re drunk?_ Wonwoo smiles down at Seokmin’s head, now resting on his lap. _Maybe it isn’t so bad. How can he look so cute, even when intoxicated?_

 

“Okay fine. Hey, Minghao!” He yells over to the kitchen. “Can you stop sucking face with Jeonghan long enough to get me a glass of water?!”

 

Panting, Minghao slides off of the kitchen counter, stumbling around Jeonghan, and reaches for a glass in the cabinet. “I don’t know if I can get this all the way over to the living room without spilling.” Minghao giggles a little too hard, already failing at his attempts to keep the water inside of the glass.

 

 _I guess I have to do this myself before there’s blood and broken glass everywhere._ After apologizing profusely, and planting a quick kiss on a needy, drunken Seokmin’s forehead, Wonwoo makes his way over to Minghao. The younger seems to have forgotten his task at hand, since his lips are once more attached to his MAT 135 tutor, water pouring out of the glass and onto the tile. _Damn, those hickies look rough. Poor kid. I hope he has a spoon in his freezer._

 

“Don’t mind me,” Wonwoo pulls the glass from Minghao’s hand before all of the water empties onto the floor. _Why do people act so carelessly when they’re drunk? Maybe I’m the mother of this group instead of Jisoo. Speaking of watching over others…where the hell is Mingyu?_ Placing his practically empty glass of water on the kitchen counter, Wonwoo heads down the hallway in search of the missing friend. _Did he get lost on the way to the bathroom? I know this place isn’t THAT large. Wait. Isn’t his apartment the same floor plan? This kid must be more intoxicated that I am._ There’s a crash heard from the other side of Wonwoo’s bedroom door, followed by a loud, “Shit!” _Found him._ Wonwoo opens the door only to find Mingyu standing over his broken succulent terrarium.

 

“I’m so sorry! I swear I can buy you a new one!” Mingyu exclaims, extremely flustered. _That bad boy exterior sure sheds quickly when inebriated._

“Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t too expensive. I can just get a new one myself.” Wonwoo grabs an empty plastic bag he has yet to throw away, and begins cleaning up the mess. Considering the state of his eyesight, he feels as though he is doing a decent job. _Thank God the terrarium was plastic instead of glass._

“Let me help you with that.” Mingyu offers, slurring his words, as he leans down to pick up a glob of dirt. Unfortunately, he loses his balance, falling into Wonwoo’s dresser.

 

Dropping the plastic bag, Wonwoo grabs Mingyu’s arm and places it around his shoulders. “You need to be more careful when you’re plastered.”

 

“Yeah. I guess I don’t make the best choices once enough alcohol enters my system.” He releases a toothy grin, revealing white teeth and sharp canines. _Those could bite into my skin any day…ohmygod. I have to stop thinking like this. Seokmin’s in the living room. Ugh. Seokmin is so adorable. Mingyu’s straight. I mean. I think he is. That comment earlier was, um, a bit questionable._ Wonwoo’s mind drifts off for a bit until Mingyu’s weight increases on his right shoulder, causing him to stumble a bit to the left. “Hey, I think I should help you home.”

 

Mingyu leans his head on top of Wonwoo’s, “No, you don’t have to I’m _perfectly_ sober.” He removes his arm from Wonwoo’s shoulders attempting to walk to the door, but immediately begins to trip over his feet.  In a flash, Wonwoo is once more Mingyu’s support. He’s warm, and the position seems almost natural. _Wow. He really does smell like cinnamon and sandalwood._ Wonwoo can feel himself beginning to smile, but he forces it away before the taller boy can see.

 

“Come on you big lug. Time to go home.” He only receives grunt in return as they begin to make their way to the door. “Hey guys, I’ll be right back! Tall, dark, and handsome over here took a little more than he could handle. He’ll need help getting up to the fifth floor.”

 

“Don’t take too long!” Soonyoung calls over the music that has now replaced Harry Potter. “When you get back we’re playing twister!”

 

“It looks like I’m going to miss out on the best event of the night.” Mingyu lazily winks while fumbling with the laces of his shoe.

 

“Here just let me do it.” At this point, Wonwoo’s vision is only slightly better than Mingyu’s, but his muscle memory aids him in sliding the knot into place. “Okay let’s go.”

 

Wonwoo pulls Mingyu up from the grounds and out of the apartment’s entrance.

 

“So, you think I’m tall, dark, and handsome, eh?” asks Mingyu while they reach their second flight of stairs.

 

Wonwoo looks at Mingyu with annoyance. “You _are_ tall, even taller than I am. You’re _definitely_ tan. Let’s be honest. _No one_ is going to deny the fact that you are handsome. You seem to know it yourself.”

 

“I’m not going to lie and act like I don’t know that I’m attractive. There are plenty of people who are attractive, and they should take pride in their appearance.” The two males pause in front of Mingyu’s door.

 

“You’re not wrong.” Wonwoo agrees while he unhooks Mingyu’s arm from his shoulders.

 

“Like you.” Mingyu leans in a bit closer. The smell of cinnamon gum hits Wonwoo’s nostrils, warming his already scorching face. “You’re attractive and you don’t seem to know it.” He continues to move toward Wonwoo, causing him to back into the wall. Mingyu’s lips are only centimeters from his and all Wonwoo is able to do is squeeze his eyes shut. _This is a dream. This. Is. A. Dream. You’ve passed out from drinking too much and you’re having the same dream again. Wake up now! Wake u-_

Mingyu’s lips sloppily land on Wonwoo’s, closing the gap between them. Mingyu presses his body against Wonwoo when he kisses back, cinnamon burning his chapped lips. _This isn’t a dream._ Wonwoo immediately opens his eyes shoving Mingyu away. Although Mingyu’s balance is poor at the moment, he manages to keep himself upright after a few stumbled steps back. “What the hell?! Can’t you see that I’m not interested in you?!”

 

“That’s not what your mouth was telling me.” Mingyu delivers with his classic smirk. Wonwoo instantly slaps the expression off of Mingyu’s face.

 

“Seokmin and I are together. We aren’t official, but I was hoping we would be after tonight. Hasn’t that been obvious, though?! Do you not care about anyone else’s feelings but your own? Is your only goal of human interaction, sex?! What kind of emotionless machine are you?!” Mingyu opens his mouth to respond but Wonwoo cuts him off before he can speak. “You know what? Fuck you. Don’t you _ever_ talk to me again.” He turns and dashes down the staircase leaving a speechless, wasted, Mingyu, staring after him in pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a bit since I've updated. Uni hit like a bus, then I went through a break up, then spring break hit, then MORE UNI HIT LIKE A BUS, then my motivation to write was about 0 because all of it went to my homework. BUT I'M BACK. This chapter is longer than all of the others.... if that helps make it up to you. Anyways if you want, feel free to yell at me through my tumblr: www.rimjob-queen.tumblr.com (also don't ask about the name, it's an inside joke from years ago........) Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I don't think my updates will ever take this long again. SORRY!!!


	5. The Green Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of plant talk, including Wonwoo mentally talking to plants...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Temperature in this is in Celsius, and will continue to be throughout the later chapters.

**3 weeks later on a Friday.**

“My brain is a pile of porridge.” Wonwoo complains as he slams his textbook shut. “Sooonnnyooouunnggg.” He whines loudly so that his roommate is able to hear him in the living room. “Help me! I think I’m dying!”

 

There’s a sudden crash as Wonwoo hears dishes break on the, what sounds to him like, kitchen tile. Soonyoung bursts through his door, wide eyed, hair askew, and ready to save a life. “WHAT’S WRONG?! DO I HAVE TO TAKE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL?!” He latches onto Wonwoo’s shoulders and shakes vigorously. “HELLOOOO??! EARTH TO WONWOO?!!”

 

“Hoshi, calm down. I’m fine. Stop overreacting.” He swats Soonyoung’s hands away, turning around to face the other. “I couldn’t even respond because you were being so, ya know, yourself.”

 

“Oh thank GOD. I can’t lose my main homie.” Soonyoung playfully punches Wonwoo’s chest. “So what do you _really_ need help with?”

 

“First thing’s first: Don’t ever say homie again.”

 

“Noted.” says Soonyoung as he pretends to pull a pen from his ear; jotting invisible notes down on the palm of his hand.

 

“Second: this ten-page paper I have to complete for my Communication Theory class is frying my body, mind, and soul. I’m so fried that a street vendor could put me on a skewer and sell me to a pedestrian.”

 

Soonyoung places his imaginary pen back on his ear. “You know I’m a performing arts major. There’s no way I could help you with that. Sorry, man.”

 

“Fuck me.” Wonwoo groans as his drops his head into his hands.

 

“As good looking as I think you are, you’re my main G. It’s also a well known fact that boys aren’t my thing.” He jokes while placing a hand down to ruffle Wonwoo’s hair.

 

“What language are you speaking right now? Who the hell says ‘main G’?” Lifting his head from his hands to look at Soonyoung he continues, “Plus, you know I’m not into blondes, or whatever the fading blue mop on top of your head is.” He reaches up and tugs on a small handful of hair. “It’s looking a little rough. If you dye it brown, or even black, maybe you’ll actually get a girlfriend.”

  
“My heart! It hurts! Such pain you have caused to my soul.” Clutching at his heart, he falls to his knees, pretending to be assaulted by Wonwoo’s words. “But it’s not like _you_ have a boyfriend, and _your_ hair is normal. When are you and Seokmin gonna be official already?” Soonyoung asks as he flops onto the other’s bed. “Every time you’re on your phone, which is rare, it’s _always_ because you’re texting him. I swear you two have gone out for coffee every other day since Harry Potter night. Just ask him out already.”

 

“I just don’t wanna mess things up with him. He’s different.” Wonwoo clasps his hands behind his head, leaning back in his chair, processing his thoughts. “Every time I start to like someone, something goes wrong. He’s such a kindhearted person, and he never fails to brighten up my day. This time, I’m determined to not fuck everything up, so I’ll just wait until he thinks the time is right, or when I feel the time is right. I don’t know. It’s just – he’s so – ugh. You know?”

 

Soonyoung lets out an elongated whistle. “Sounds like this kid has you pretty whipped.”

 

Before he’s able to react, a Communication Theory textbook makes contact with his stomach, “Oof! Hey, that hurt!” Soonyoung tosses the textbook to the ground.

 

“Hmmm. Seems like you deserved it.” Wonwoo turns back to his laptop, attempting to hide his sliver of a smile.

 

“Oh shut up. I don’t deserve any pain at all. I am too perfect. Too divine. Too-”

 

“Annoying.” Wonwoo tosses a pencil over his head, hoping that it’ll make contact with Soonyoung’s face.

 

“Ah! Wonwoo! What the hell?” _Bingo._ “Am I not loyal? Am I not a good friend? What have I done to deserve such torture? This is too much. Either your attitude goes or I do bec-” The doorbell rings, stopping Soonyoung’s rant. _Thank God. That could’ve gone on for hours._

 

“I’ll get it, and leave you to complain to yourself in _my_ room.” Wonwoo closes his laptop and heads toward his door. Peeking through the peephole, he finds no one. “Hello?” _Did someone seriously ding-dong-ditch an apartment door?_ He rolls his eyes as he opens the door to look for the culprit. While inspecting as much of the area as he can with his eyes, a glimmer of sunshine hits an object on the ground. A succulent terrarium. A brand new, glass, succulent terrarium. On the bottom of the anonymous gift is a yellow sticky note:

 

 _Hey. I’m sorry for breaking your plastic mini garden holder._ “Succulent terrarium.” Wonwoo corrects the note as if it’s able to fix itself. _I bought a new one for you though. I know you don’t want to talk to me so here’s a note._

_-The Freshman on the fifth floor that you hate (Mingyu)_

_P.S. This one is glass so don’t place it anywhere where sloppy drunks can hit it and break it._

 

The corners of his lips begin to turn upward at this kind gesture before he forces them quickly back down to a straight line. _You hate him. He broke it in the first place. He practically owes you a new one. Don’t give in. This doesn’t excuse his actions at all._ Wonwoo flips over the post it, only to find more writing:

_P._ _P. S. I’m really sorry about what I did last time we saw each other. It was wrong. I was wrong. Being intoxicated is not a valid excuse and I know that. I hope you and your boyfriend are okay, and I hope that you can eventually forgive me._

There’s a pause in his feelings of dislike towards Mingyu, as if he’s considering giving the playboy a second chance. The pause is only miniscule before he shakes the thoughts out of his head. Upon closing the front door, Wonwoo crumples up the note and tosses it into his trashcan, but keeps a steady hold on his beautiful new terrarium. _At least he has good taste for someone who doesn’t even know the correct term._ Grabbing a clean glass from the cupboard, he ads a little water to the new plant housing, giving his new succulents some nourishment. “Hosh! Come to the kitchen and check this out!”

 

Bolting out of Wonwoo’s room, Soonyoung races to the kitchen and sits himself on a barstool. He reaches for the terrarium with grabby hands until Wonwoo passes it over to him. “Cool! A glass cactus dome!” _Are you kidding me. “_ Do you know who gave it to you?”

“It’s a succulent terrarium, and no, I have no idea.” The object slips slightly from Soonyoung’s hands, but he quickly catches it before another broken disaster is able to occur. “Careful! You’ll harm my succulents, and possibly yourself! It’s glass, not plastic!”

 

“Fine, fine.” He returns the infant garden to its rightful owner.

 

“Thank you.” Wonwoo hugs the succulents close to him before placing it on the counter. _Don’t worry, I’ll hang you little guys up soon enough._

“Dude, you’re so weird.” Soonyoung states as his thumbs fly rapidly across his phone’s keyboard. “Oh, by the way, I’m going to go out with Jun tonight. Jisoo and his boyfriend broke up yesterday, so we’re gonna go hit up a club or two, and probably try and find him a rebound girl or something. Jun and I are terrific wingmen, if I do say so myself.”

 

Wonwoo scoffs. “Sure, whatever you say.” He gingerly picks up the delicate glass terrarium and pats Soonyoung on the head. “I’m going to try and finish my paper now. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

 

“But that takes away everything fun!” Calls Soonyoung as Wonwoo enters his room, shutting his door, surrounding himself in silence for the first time since Soonyoung came bursting in. _Finally, an escape from Hoshi’s running mouth._ Before sitting down at the torture chamber he calls his desk, Wonwoo carefully places his new terrarium on the hook that had once held the last one. “ _This one is glass so don’t place it anywhere where sloppy drunks can hit it and break it.”_ Mingyu’s quote plays in his head and he pulls the adhesive strip from the plastic hook, sticking it nearer to the corner of his wall, away from harm. “Much better.” Wonwoo takes a few steps back to admire his new placement and new terrarium. _Ding!_ A messaging alert rings on his laptop, reminding him of the task he has been avoiding. Picking up his textbook from the floor, he returns to his schoolwork. “Back into the depths of despair I go.”

 

\--------------------

 

**1:35am**

“Alas, the death project has ended.” Wonwoo says while closing his laptop. As he stretches his arms, he realizes how long he’d been sitting in the same position. _Shit. I’m as stiff as the tin man before he was oiled. I should walk this off and head to bed._ Once he is able to force himself into a standing position, his phone lights up, ringtone slicing through the silence. Figuring it is Soonyoung, he answers, thoroughly irked. “I swear to God, Kwon Soonyoung if this is some drunk call about how you’re bringing a girl home, I don’t want to know, and I better not hear it. If I do, I’m investing on getting your room sound-proofed. Actually, you have to pay for it since you’re the one who’d be causing the noise.” Laughter is heard from the other end, starting off low, but ending high-pitched, raising in intensity. “Seokmin? Well you could’ve said something.”

 

“I would have, but you seemed intent on chewing out Soonyoung. I was just along for the ride.” He laughs a little more before Wonwoo responds.

 

“Okay, but why are you _actually_ calling me at this hour?”

 

“It might be because I wanted to hear your deep voice before falling asleep. However, tonight is not one of those nights.” He pauses, attempting to build Wonwoo’s anticipation, but notices he’s failing quite miserably. “Well, anyways, I’m not letting you know. It’s a surprise, so put on a jacket, and meet at our usual spot in 20. See ya there, handsome.”

 

“Wait, but isn’t the Carat Café closed right now?” No response. “Hello?” Removing his phone from his ear, he looks at the screen. _Call Ended._ “Great.” Already on his phone, he checks his weather app so he is able to dress himself accordingly. “9 degrees and windy. Great. Well, there goes my comfortable sweats and white tee from my list of possible outfits.” After discarding his loose t-shirt, he grabs a grey long-sleeve off of a hanger and tugs it over his his body. “Layers. I need a jacket.” Looking through his outerwear, keeping the weather conditions in mind, he decides to not go with the leather jacket for once and grabs his green and black bomber jacket. “Long Sleeves?” _Check. “_ Jacket?” _Check._ “Hair?” Walking over to his bathroom, he looks in the mirror to inspect his appearance. _Well, damn. I look like I’ve been hit by a bus._ Little tufts of his hair are askew from where he had run his fingers through his hair in frustration. He blames his unruly appearance on his Communication paper. Picking up a comb from the bathroom sink, he wets it and fixes his hair in a timely fashion. Wonwoo sighs, staring at the bags under his eyes. “It’s not my best look, but it’ll have to do.” With a yawn, he grabs his keys and leaves his apartment.

 

\---------------------

 

Biting wind is all Wonwoo is able to feel as he rounds the the corner across from the café. Numb cheeks and teary eyes have him regretting his choice to not wear his glasses and a turtleneck, but he’s almost to his destination, and it’s too late to turn back now. A familiar figure can be seen under the lamp post in front of the closed hang-out spot. _Seokmin._ “Hey! I’m glad you came! I was starting to worry that you were going to be a party pooper and bail.” Seokmin says with a playful pout. Suddenly, Wonwoo doesn’t mind the cold, and his numb cheeks seem to have feeling once again. As Wonwoo nears, he can see the other’s outfit in more detail. His green and white letterman’s jacket is buttoned to the top; white collar starkly contrasting against his bronzed skin. Most of the time his forehead is covered by his bangs, but the wind is constantly constantly hits them at just the right angle, exposing the hidden treasure. _Of course. He looks like absolute perfection while I look like a garbage can._

“Even at this ungodly hour, you still manage to look incredibly handsome.” Seokmin comments as he graces Wonwoo with his award-winning smile.

 

“You’re the one who decided to meet at this time. But, I could say the same for you as well.” Wonwoo says as he teasingly shoves Seokmin’s shoulder. Before Wonwoo’s arm falls back to his side, Seokmin reaches for his hand, interlocking their fingers. Both of their hands have fingers resembling mini icicles, but there’s still a sense of warmth between them. Slowly, Wonwoo’s lips form a small smile as he looks down at their hands. “So, what’d you ask me here for, anyway? I’m pretty sure it’s not to just hold my hand.”

 

Seokmin starts swinging the arm attached to Wonwoo’s causing his own arm to follow the movement. “Not to stand out here swinging arms in the cold wind, that’s for sure. My place is just around the corner. Let’s go grab my car and I’ll take you to the _real_ destination.”

 

“As long as your car has heated seats, I’m all for it. Otherwise it’s going to be a movie night at your apartment,” says Wonwoo as they began walking.

 

“I guess I should’ve bought a car without them because that sounds like a really nice night.” Seokmin bumps Wonwoo’s shoulder, giving him a wink along with it. “Hey, what’s your favorite color? I’ve never really asked before.”

 

“I know I wear a lot of black, but I really love blue. It makes me feel relaxed when I’m stressed over stuff like school work. Yours?”

 

“Black,” Seokmin replies. “Maybe that’s why I like your wardrobe so much. I’d wear it more often, but I feel like it doesn’t fit my personality well.”

 

“And yet, it fits mine?” Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at Seokmin.

 

“Wow! Would you look at that! We’re here!” He releases Wonwoo’s hand to grab his keys. “Sadly, we are not here to tour my living space, but I can give you a tour of my Honda Accord.” Seokmin offers as he slides into the driver’s seat while Wonwoo sits on the passenger side. “Here is the lovely dashboard. This is the glove compartment. We have two cup-holders up here, and space for three others to sit in the back.”

 

“What an engaging tour. Thank you,” he says and he buckles his seatbelt.

 

“If you get sleepy while we drive to our destination, there’s a switch on the side that will lower your seat back.” Informs Seokmin as they pull out onto the street. The car is silent until Seokmin attaches his phone to the auxiliary chord at a stoplight. Frank Sinatra’s ‘The Way You Look Tonight’ plays softly through the car’s speakers. As the song continues, Seokmin begins to harmonize with the melody, making Wonwoo’s insides feel soft and gooey. “You have a really wonderful voice. If you put yourself out there, I bet you could make a living off of it.”

 

“You really think so?” Questions Seokmin with a look a pleasant surprise.

 

I don’t think so, I know so. You sound just like an angel.” Wonwoo closes his eyes and lowers his seat until it is touching the back row of seats. “I wish I could have you sing me to sleep every night. There’s no way I could have a bad dream ever again after that.”

 

“That’d be a nice arrangement wouldn’t it?” states Seokmin as he grabs Wonwoo’s hand, lacing their fingers together once more. Wonwoo swears his heart skips a beat before it promptly returns to normal. His breathing pattern slows and he knows he will drift off any second now. The song changes, and the last thing he remembers before giving into the temptations of sleep is Seokmin’s graceful voice singing along to Beyoncé’s ‘Halo’. _How fitting._

 

\--------------------

 

“Hey sleepy butt.” There’s a sudden shake to his shoulder before Wonwoo groggily opens his eyes. “We’re here.”

 

“How long was I out?” Asks Wonwoo as he rubs his eyes, attempting to rid of his blurry vision. For the second time in one night, he wishes he had taken out his contacts, and replaced them with his glasses. He can’t really fix that now, can he?

 

“Only about 15 minutes. It’s not too far of a drive from home.” Answers Seokmin as he helps Wonwoo unbuckle. As Seokmin begins to step out of the car, Wonwoo realizes that this is his cue to leave the comfort of the heated vehicle. “C’mon lazy bum. It’s only a little past two in the morning. No one should be _that_ tired on a Friday night.” He tugs at Wonwoo’s left arm until he’s able to heave himself out of the car.

 

“Okay. Okay. I’m up. Now what?”

 

“Now we enter the Gyeongju East Palace Garden.” Seokman says while twirling a set of different keys around his index finger. _How the hell did he manage to get those?_ “My uncle is a security guard here and I’ve always wanted to visit while all of the plants are sleeping.” Seokmn says, seeming to read Wonwoo’s mind from his confused expression. “Don’t worry we’re totally fine. We just can’t harm the garden. No touching the greenery, okay?”

 

“But what if I wanna smell it? Aren’t we supposed to smell pretty flowers? Isn’t that what going to gardens is for?” Whines Wonwoo as he tugs on Seokmin’s sleeves.

 

“Fine. You can smell the flowers, just nothing else, okay?” Wonwoo nods his head as a silent promise before they enter the palace shaped greenhouse.

 

The garden does not hold an ounce of artificial light, so it is a bit difficult to navigate, but the moon is bright, and the flashlight on Seokmin’s phone is brighter. He leads them to a set of benches where fall flowers are in full bloom. Seokmin sets himself on a bench and Wonwoo follows. Resting his head on Seokmin’s shoulder, he inhales the fresh scent of sweet autumn clematis as it caresses his nostrils.

 

“I used to come here a lot when I was younger.” Begins Seokmin as he pushes up the sleeves of Wonwoo’s jacket and shirt. “I would read the newest Harry Potter while my sister would water the plants.” He lets his fingers lightly brush up and down Wonwoo’s forearm, causing goose bumps to rise, as well as his heart rate. It feels as if millions of butterflies are softly kissing his skin. As soon as he becomes accustomed to the feeling, it begins to relax him. “She used to teach me the names of each new flower brought in for the season it was introduced. Every new flower to enter this greenhouse became her favorite, while mine remains the same. The gardenia ended up becoming the flower I had fallen in love with. There are a few in this little patch of seasonal flowers behind us. I find the symbols of secret love, sweetness, and purity to be rather fitting with its strong fragrance.” There’s a sudden stop of movement on his arm as Seokmin pulls the sleeves back down over Wonwoo’s wrists. Wonwoo removes his head from Seokmin’s shoulder to try and interpret Seokmin’s expression. Unfortunately, his face is unreadable since the other is looking intently at the palms of his hands, moonlight paling his skin. “In a way, I can relate the Gardenia to you.” He places his hand on the back of Wonwoo’s before tilting his head up to look the taller in the eyes. There’s a shine to them that Wonwoo had not noticed before now. They smile even when his mouth is set in a straight line, and they add a dash of happiness to his night. “You’re purely sweet, and maybe there’s a secret love hidden in there somewhere.” He looks away quickly, a tinge of pink dances across his high cheek bones, slightly visible in the dim lighting. Before continuing, he looks back at Wonwoo. “What I’m trying to say is that I think you’re special, and that _we_ could be special. There’s something about you that makes my heart smile and bounce. I feel like I might float away whenever we touch. We laugh at the dumbest things and watch some pretty cheesy horror films, but I enjoy it all. It always feels so awkward asking someone to be your boyfriend, I just never know what to say. It’s not like I’ve had many boyfriends, but I just I feel so tongue tied, and I start rambling because I feel like my heart could burst straight through my chest, but I should probably stop talking so you can answer my que-” Seokmin’s words are cut off abruptly by Wonwoo’s lips making contact with his. Wonwoo almost breaks the kiss, but Seokmin snaps out of his stupor just fast enough to kiss the other back. With closed eyes and the scent of the garden flowers surrounding them, Wonwoo feels as though he could stay like this forever. Melting further into the kiss, he can’t help compare Seokmin’s lips to the feeling of sipping iced tea, on a hammock, in the afternoon sun of a warm summer’s day. They break apart too soon, but he expects there will be many more moments like this to come in the future. “So I’m taking this as a yes?”

 

“Of course.” Wonwoo replies as he switches from his seated position to lying down, head settling on Seokmin’s lap. Seokmin runs his fingers through Wonwoo’s hair and Wonwoo’s eyes flutter shut. Beginning to fall asleep once again, he can’t help but do so with a hint of a smile ghosting across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. Took me five years to get a chapter out again, BUT YAY SEOKWOO IS OFFICIAL! (Too bad it's a meanie fic soooo....) ANYWAYS. I ended up writing a later chapter before this, so at least that update won't take long when the time comes. Sorry, I hope you liked this. Also more interaction between roommates. Soonyoung's my bias wrecker so, OOPS he was in quite a bit of this one.


	6. Fright Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few inappropriate jokes with the squad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's pronounced neander-Tal, not neander-THal.

**October 31st**

 

Outside the sky is dull and dismal, as Wonwoo stares mindlessly at the overhead clouds through streaky windows. Inside of the campus cafeteria, the air is warm, contrasting with the brisk air on the opposite side of the glass. The monotonous sky causes Wonwoo’s mind to slowly run blank as he rests his head on his hand, eyelids becoming too heavy to keep open.   _I don’t have class for another hour, maybe if I just close my eyes…_ Before he can react, a pair of icy hands are covering Wonwoo’s eyes, causing goosebumps to prickle his skin. The culprit’s fingers are long, delicate, and all-too-familiar. “Hey Seokmin,” Wonwoo greets, giving his boyfriend a small smile.

 

“Hello sleepy butt, we meet again,” Seokmin replies before planting a kiss on Wonwoo’s cheek and sliding into the seat across from him. “Happy Halloween!”

 

“Yeah, Happy Halloween,” says Wonwoo, eyes closed, brain attempting to pull him into slumber.

 

“Do you have any plans for your outfit tonight?” Asks the younger as he knocks Wonwoo’s arm away from his face, causing him to jerk awake.

 

“Hey!” Wonwoo yells. “I was using that!”

 

“Yeah, whatever. You need to stay awake for class. It’s not like you would set an alarm. We both know from past instances that you’re not the most punctual person. Plus, I should always be your center of attention, sleep isn’t as important as seeing my dazzling smile,” Seokmin boasts with a wink as he wraps his hands tightly around his coffee cup, attempting to defrost his fingers.

 

Wonwoo plucks the cup from the other’s hands and takes a sip.

 

“Hey!” Seokmin yells in protest. “I was using that!”

 

“Like you said, I have to stay alert for class, right?” Wonwoo smugly replies as he gulps down a decent portion of the Peppermint Americano. “Isn’t it a little too early in the holiday season for peppermint? I thought you would’ve been one to stick to the seasonal flavors. It’s the most iconic day for pumpkins too.”

 

“You might be right, but my brilliant smile is only a result of my morning Americanos, so if you would be so kind as to give me my coffee.” As soon as Wonwoo hands the coffee back over to Seokmin, his overbearing smile is apparent once more, causing Wonwoo’s heart to melt for the millionth time. _I don’t think I could ever be mad at someone as radiant as he is. How can he have me so whipped?_

 

“Shit, Hoshi was right,” Wonwoo mumbles underneath his breath.

 

“Hmm…?” questions Seokmin as he scrolls through his phone.

 

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” dismisses Wonwoo as he looks out the window, studying the sky once again. “Do you think it’s going to rain tonight?”

 

Seokmin’s focus leaves his phone as he switches it back onto Wonwoo, “Tonight? No way! It never rains on Halloween!” _It always rains on Halloween…_ “Speaking of tonight, what we were talking about before you _rudely_ stole my coffee, what are you planning on wearing?” He leans forward, both hands supporting his chin.

 

Wonwoo shrugs in reply, “I don’t know. Usually I just figure things out later in the day. I wasn’t really intending on having a costume anyway since I don’t have plans for tonight.”

 

“That’s where I come in,” his normally warm and honest smile turning slightly playful and mysterious. “What time are you done speeding around in your chicken costume? Wait! You could just wear that as your outfit tonight! I’m _so_ smart. What would you do without me?”

 

“It’s a chicken helmet, not a costume, and I don’t speed, it’s unsafe,” Wonwoo says, correcting the smug figure across from him. “Tonight’s my night off, actually, but midterms are coming up, so I need to go to the library and check out my anthropology textbook. It’s tedious, but I’d rather not spend a billion dollars on a book that I’d only use for one semester.”

 

Seokmin nods in agreement, picks his phone up from the table, and stuffs it into his back pocket, “I’ll pick you up at 10 tonight, okay? That should give you time to study and get ready.” In a flash, he’s out of his seat and giving Wonwoo a quick goodbye peck on the lips. Although it’s swift, Wonwoo’s heart begins to beat a little faster.

 

“But where are we going?”

 

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” states Seokmin as he rushes out of the building, heading to his next class.

 

Flipping his phone over, Wonwoo presses the home button to check the time. _40 more minutes until class. Good, I can still take a nap. Just 15, no, 20, minutes._ After setting his alarm for a short power nap, he rests his head on his folded arms, concentrating on the rhythm of his breathing until he eventually loses consciousness.

 

\--------------------

 

“Since both Neanderthals and Modern Humans share the FOXP2 gene for speech, we can conclude that Modern Humans and Neanderthals interbred,” informs a monotonous Professor Yoon to a lecture hall of glassy-eyed students.

 

Wonwoo tries to speedily scribble down the new information before the professor switches to the next slide of the power point. _Shit._ Eyes still glued to the lecture, he whispers to the long-haired blonde seated to his right, “Hey, Jeonghan, did you get that? I missed the last bit of the slide.”

 

No response.

 

Turning his head, a passed out Jeonghan, head on desk, mouth agape, drool dripping onto his blank notebook, comes into view. _What else would I possibly think this human log would be doing?_ “Hey sleeping beauty,” Wonwoo gives a small nudge of his elbow to Jeonghan’s side, “maybe you should pay attention since we have a midterm soon.”

 

“Hmmm…?” Jeonghan stirs a bit from his slumber, swatting away Wonwoo’s elbow in annoyance. Using the back of his free hand, he wipes a stream of drool from the corner of his mouth before continuing his slumber. Wonwoo rolls his eyes before positioning them back onto the screen. _No reason in waking him since he’s dead-ass asleep during the lecture like always…_

 

“…and after my results came in, I found out that I have 3% Neanderthal DNA in my system. It was definitely worth the money for testing, don’t you think?”

 

Silence.

 

Professor Yoon clears her throat before continuing, “I guess that’s it for today’s class since no one seems to have any questions. Stay safe tonight!”

 

The sound of everyone’s miniature desks slamming back into place at the side of their chairs startles Jeonghan awake, “What did I miss?!”

 

While packing up his notebook and pencil, Wonwoo replies, “Oh, not much, just the entire lecture…again.”

 

“Jisoo and Seokmin have this class on Mondays and Wednesdays. One of them is bound to give me their notes,” Jeonghan assures himself, brushing off the issue.

 

“Don’t you copy Jisoo’s notes almost every week?” Wonwoo asks while placing his backpack on his shoulders.

 

“Yeah, but Jisoo and I have been best friends since elementary school. He loves me,” Jeonghan replies as he grabs his satchel from the floor.

 

“It seems like he just tolerates you out of obligation from a long term friendship.”

 

“Oh, shut up,” Jeonghan lightly hits Wonwoo’s arm as they walk out of the lecture hall.

 

“You know, instead of continuously bothering Jisoo, you could always pay attention in class, or at least come to the library with me and study,” suggests Wonwoo.

 

Jeonghan lets out a small chuckle, “Libraries are my reserved sleep space. You should know this after the two other times you’ve dragged me to that nap house.”

 

“Everywhere is your reserved nap house.”

 

“I’ve never thought of it that way, but you’re not wrong,” he replies in agreement as he unlocks his phone to answer a call.

 

“Jisoo?”

 

“Close, but not at all, really – Hey pup!” _Seriously? Out of all the pet names for Minghao, you had to give him an **actual** pet name? _“Okay we definitely _don’t_ time for that. As fun and interesting as that seems, we have too much to do in preparation for tonight! Harley Quinn doesn’t happen in one hour. I also have to figure out what I’m going to do with you because there is _no way_ I am letting you be _that_ when you know what Jihoon’s costume is going to be. I’d also look like your dad, and you know I’m not into that ‘daddy’ shit.”

 

As they reach the library, Wonwoo is beyond thankful because he doesn’t know how long he can continue to listen to Jeonghan constantly calling Minghao his cute puppy. _This honeymoon phase needs to end soon or else I might end up throwing myself in front of a moving vehicle._ “Hey, so, uh, I’m gonna go now.” Wonwoo says, gesturing both thumbs toward the library’s entrance, as he slips away from Jeonghan’s conversation at last.

 

Once through the double doors of the building, he realizes how icy the air outside was. Minghao and Jeonghan’s sappy conversation had been enough to distract him from the late autumn air, but now, his fingers and cheeks tingle from the indoor heating’s contact with his chilled skin. As he walks over to the main desk, one of the student employees recognizes him and leaves to grab his textbook. Being a regular at the library is a bonus for Wonwoo since it saves him the hassle of requesting the same book during _every_ visit. “Student ID?” With his ID ready in hand, he passes it to the employee who lazily swipes and returns it. “You know the policy. It’s due in four hours it can’t leave the library.” Wonwoo thanks the employee and heads to his regular space on the second floor. Immediately on the right, after conquering the unnecessarily steep staircase, there are a few cushioned chairs settled around a small granite table. Although there are multiple sets scattered around the floor, Wonwoo prefers a spot near an outlet. Expecting the area to be empty, as they normally are, he tosses his bag on the chair and begins to unpack his laptop, only to hear a book close to his left. Looking over he sees a familiar figure that he would’ve rather avoided. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Wonwoo begins, slightly flustered, “I’ll just move my stuff to a different area.”

 

“No, it’s fine. I’m not going to use the other two chairs,” Mingyu protests, barely glancing up from the notebook he’s writing in. He then continues to push his bag over with his foot, providing Wonwoo with room for his legs.

 

“Um, thanks,” Wonwoo mumbles in reply as he seats himself in front of his laptop. There’s an awkward silence hanging between them, but Wonwoo doesn’t put much thought into it, since it’s a library, and proceeds to being typing this week’s anthropology terms into an online quiz website.  _Mousterian Technology: a style of predominantly flint tools used by Neanderthals._ Wonwoo sighs at the terminology in front of him, blatantly bored by the first term.

 

“Is anthropology really _that_ boring?” Mingyu asks as he pulls out red a toothpick from the front pouch of his backpack. Once he bites down, a light scent of cinnamon dusts the surrounding area, but Wonwoo can still detect a hint of sandalwood underneath it all.

Wonwoo closes his laptop deciding early on that he isn’t going to get much done today in terms of studying, “It’s not an uninteresting course, it’s just that I’m tired of all of these terms and weekly review questions. If I don’t do them now, I’ll put them off until later, and then I won’t have time to study.”

 

“You seem to be pretty caught up on your education. You’re in college, just relax for a second,” as Mingyu speaks, Wonwoo can’t help but study the way the toothpick bobs up and down on his lips. _Stop staring before he notices._

 

“Says the person who is also in the library doing school work,” scoffs Wonwoo in reply while pulling his eyes away from Mingyu’s mouth.

 

“I never said that I didn’t care about my education. I’m just saying that you seem to care about it too much to even socialize,” Mingyu sets his notebook down on the table before continuing. “Look, college is about building life long relationships and making great memories that you’ll be able to reflect back on with a smile.” There’s a pause in his speech as he looks up at Wonwoo, “Although I have one memory I wish I could change. I wish I could take back what I did that night. I’m really not the kind of person to do things like that I-”

 

Before Mingyu can finish, Wonwoo angrily juts in, “Really? From my encounters with you, you seem to be some cocky stuck up asshole who sleeps with anything that moves.”

 

“Ouch,” Mingyu replies with a tinge of hurt behind his eyes. “But before you continue to jab me with false accusations, you’ve interacted with me a total of two times before now. The times where we avoid eye contact while we pass each other in the complex don’t count.”

 

“And those two interactions weren’t correct depictions of your personality? Please, try to enlighten me,” Wonwoo pushes Mingyu to continue forward, arms now clasped firmly on his lap.

 

Mingyu discards the cinnamon toothpick from his lips before beginning, “Look, I know you probably saw my ex-girlfriend leaving when you delivered chicken to my apartment, and my appearance might have been a little risqué-”

 

“I didn’t know she was your girlfriend. If I would’ve known-”

 

Mingyu chimes in before Wonwoo finishes, “Would it have even mattered if she was my girlfriend? It shouldn’t have. We’re humans. Humans have sex. There shouldn’t be a reason why me having sex would reflect how I am as a person.”

 

Wonwoo looks down at his hands, a bit ashamed of his first judgments, “I guess you’re right…”

 

“As for my drunken night of mistakes,” he looks away from Wonwoo, not able to make eye contact any longer, “I wish I hadn’t done what I did. Eunha and I had broken up the day before, and Minghao brought me along as an attempt to get me to stop moping around our apartment. Now, I do count it as an excuse for getting a little too drunk and accidentally breaking your plastic cactus holder.”

 

“Succulent terrarium” Corrects Wonwoo.

 

“Same thing.” _It so isn’t. Seriously, this boy._ “Anyway, my actions that night toward you were inappropriate and I feel horrible. Somehow, if I could turn back the clock and fix what I did, I would, but I’m not Hermione. I’m really sorry. I swear I’m a decent person. If I could just get you to see that, maybe we could be friends?”

 

No answer.

 

“I know, it’s probably asking a lot from you, and you don’t have to accept my apology, I just needed you to try and understand how sorry I am. I also know that you and Seokmin are together and I would never do anything to harm your relationship. That night, I thought you two were just flirting, I really didn’t know, if I would’ve known I wouldn’t have done anything.”

 

There’s silence between them for about half a minute before Wonwoo speaks up, “Alright.”

 

“Alright what?”

 

“I accept your apology.”

 

Fidgeting with his fingers, Mingyu replies, “So… friends?”

 

Wonwoo looks at Mingyu as if he has a screw loose, “Now let’s not get _too_ carried away here. We can start our way from the bottom and work our way to the top. Let’s face it, we’re pretty much working from the bottom anyway.”

 

“Okay, so, acquaintances?”

 

“That sounds a little like we’re strangers to each other.” _Our mouths definitely have touched, so I’d say we’re a little more than acquaintances._ “We’re in the same friend group now, so we’re more than acquaintances, but not quite friends…yet.”

 

“That’s fine. I can work with that,” Mingyu responds as he begins to place his notebook back into his bag.

 

“Also, I get to call you ‘shoe trees,’” adds Wonwoo.

 

“Shoe trees?”

 

“Yeah,” he nods. “You smell like shoe trees.”

 

“You mean sandalwood? I have sandalwood scented body wash, if that’s what you’re referring to,” Mingyu says while placing a new cinnamon toothpick in his mouth. “If you’re going to call me by what I smell like, I’ll do the same and call you ‘lemon.’”

 

“Nope. Not allowed,” Wonwoo protests as he shakes his head in disagreement.

 

“It’s only fair.”

 

“You still have to prove yourself as a decent friend before you can nickname me, plus shoe trees sounds a lot cooler than lemon.”

 

“Fine,” pouts Mingyu as he zips up his backpack and places is it around his broad frame. “But when the time comes, I’m calling you ‘lemon’.” He gives Wonwoo a small wave as he begins to walk off, “See you tonight!”

 

“Wait! What’s tonight?” A question asked too late, for Mingyu is already halfway down the staircase by the time he finishes his question. _How is it that everyone knows what’s going on except me?_ After a minute or so, Wonwoo re-opens his textbook, quickly brushing off his irritation, and returns to the 25 vocabulary terms he still needs to define.

 

\--------------------

 

When walking into his apartment, Wonwoo places his keys on the key rack, removes his backpack, and plops it onto one of his living room chairs, “Hoshi?! You in here?!”

 

“Yeah!” He hears Soonyoung call from his room. “Jun’s here too! We’re getting our costumes on and ready!”

 

“Cool! Can I come in and see?!” Asks Wonwoo as he makes his way to Soonyoung’s room.

 

“No! It’s a surprise!” He hears the door’s lock in front of him click. “You can’t see us until we’re completely finished! We’re works of art, and art takes time!”

 

“You guys are party poopers!” He yells back before closing himself in his room. Walking to his closet, he rummages through his clothing, attempting to find a last minute outfit that he could put together. For awhile he stares at a few options he haphazardly picked out for himself, but eventually decides on a color scheme that could correlate well with his normal wardrobe. After laying his ‘costume’ on his bed, he grabs a towel from the hallway closet, having learned from his past mistake, and hops into the shower.

 

His shower ends almost immediately after he rinses the last of the suds off of his body. The cause being a rowdy couple of boy fists pounding on his bathroom door, “Wonwoo! We’re finished with our masterpieces!”

 

“Okay! Okay!” Sliding the shower’s glass door open, he pulls his towel off its rack, dries his hair for a split second, and wraps the towel around his narrow hips. “You can open the door now! Let me see your costumes!”

 

The door instantly swings open revealing an over-the-top pirate, Jun, and a boy scout, Soonyoung. Jun has gone above and beyond with his costume, from the puffy white sleeved shirt, to the black vest and large red coat. His hat and black pants seem standard, as standard as a fake pirate can be, and his eyeliner was as smudgy as Captain Jack Sparrow’s. “Jun, you look fantastic!”

 

“Thanks!” Jun beams proudly back and Wonwoo. “I decided on being a pirate since I’m always on the hunt for booty.” _Should I smack him for that? Nah, he’ll get smacked enough if he uses that on a girl tonight._

 

 “Hoshi…” Wonwoo pauses while giving him a once over. Green shorts are rolled up to fit Soonyoung’s thighs like a glove. His khaki button-up was tucked neatly into his shorts, the color complimenting his freshly-dyed brown hair, but his green knee-highs were absolutely revolting. Yet, somehow with his overbearing smile, he’s able pull off the look… sort of. “You look like a skinny version of Russell from Up.”

 

“The wilderness must be explored! CAW! CAW! ROAR!” With his last word, Soonyoung yanks Wonwoo’s towel off of his damp frame, dashes out of the room, and pulls Jun along with him.

 

“What the hell was the point of that?!” Wonwoo yells to the goons who left him cold, wet, and naked in the bathroom.

 

“I was exploring your wilderness!” Soonyoung responds from down the hall through heavy fits of laughter.

 

He releases a sigh as he runs his hands through his dripping hair, returning to where his clothes are spread out on his bed. The sound of feet nearing him on the hardwood floor of the hallway sends panic rushing through his system. _Please lord, not right now._ A palm lands on his left ass-cheek, immediately stinging, causing Wonwoo to turn around, one hand attempting to cover his lower regions, while the other smacks Soonyoung across the face.

 

“Welp, that back fired,” Soonyoung jokes as he cradles the left side of his face with his palm.

 

“The door’s behind you. Get the hell out so I can get ready!” Wonwoo yells at Soonyoung, giving him a shove in the direction of the doorway.

 

“Fine, whatever.” Replies Soonyoung, rolling his eyes as he turns around. “Oh, by the way, Jun and I are going to go now. We’re carpooling with Minghao, Jeonghan, and Mingyu, so, uh, bye!” He yells as he runs out of the door, slamming it behind him.

 

“I swear that boy is giving me a permanent migraine,” complains Wonwoo as he rubs his temples. Finally returning to the task at hand, he begins to clothe himself. His entire outfit is one solid color: black. Black dress shoes, tie, suit jacket, shirt, and pants, but damn, they fit him almost _too_ well. He leaves a couple of top buttons undone and keeps the lie loose, trying to make the outfit a little sexy. _I don’t know if I can pull off sexy, but I guess it won’t hurt to try._ Opening the cabinet underneath the sink, he pulls out a blow-dryer, a comb, a bottle of barely used gel, and begins to work on his tangled rat’s nest. Somehow, after multiple failed attempts, he’s able to achieve a presentable pushed-back look along with a perfect side part. _Reminder to self: don’t try and do your hair ever again. This was **way** too much work. _ After washing his hands, he begins to apply black eyeliner and eyes-shadow to cancel out how whitewashed his appearance became from his monotonous wardrobe.

 

“I don’t look half bad,” he says to himself as he looks over his makeshift mob boss costume in the mirror. Before he’s finished looking for flaws in his ensemble, he hears his phone ringing in the kitchen counter. Rushing over to the kitchen, Wonwoo answers the call in the nick of time. “Hello?”

 

“Hello my garden fairy!” Wonwoo could only imagine how large Seokmin’s smile is on the other end of the phone line. “Apparently everyone wanted to meet earlier, so they’re already at the spot. Hurry your cute little butt downstairs and into this Honda!”

 

In a dash, Wonwoo turns off the apartment lights, takes his keys off of the key rack, and leaves his apartment, locking the door before bolting down the stairs.

 

As he approaches the car, the passenger side window opens up to reveal Seokmin in a fairly realistic Harry Potter costume. _Gryffindor’s a good look_. _A **really** good look. _“Hey handsome, I seem to have lost my FOX2 gene because you’re making me speechless.”

 

“I’m gonna to get into the car now, and I hope I don’t hear anymore anthropology jokes from you _ever_ again,” Wonwoo says as he opens the door, sliding into the passenger seat.

 

Seokmin starts the car and begins driving them to their secret destination. “Okay, but seriously, that pick up line was so good, c’mon.”

 

“No way, that was cringe worthy.”

 

“Whatever. I know I’m hilarious. At least Jisoo appreciates my puns.” He turns on the radio and Swingin’ Party by Kindness starts to play softly in the background. “But in all actuality, you look amazing. I feel lucky to have landed someone like you.”

 

Pretending to be entranced by the city life passing him by through the passenger side window, Wonwoo is able to hide the rosy color coating his cheekbone’s. “I can definitely say the same about you.”

 

\--------------------

 

Many songs pass, along with the city’s tallest buildings, which tells Wonwoo that they are nearing the edge of the metropolis. It’s nearly 11pm and the streets at the edge of town are no longer crowded by those in celebration of tonight’s holiday. The dingy street lamps darken the mood, creating an ominous feeling that coats surrounding area. _I guess we’re really going all out for tonight._ “Hey Seokmin?”

 

“Yeah?” The other responds, taking one hand off of the wheel, resting it on Wonwoo’s thigh. The gesture warms his body, turning his stomach into knots.

 

“As much as I love horror films, I’d rather not star in one.”

 

“Don’t worry, the virgins always survive,” assures Seokmin with a smirk directed toward Wonwoo.

 

A wide-eyed look from an offended Wonwoo is quickly followed by a backhanded smack to Seokmin’s chest, “Rude.”

 

The driver returns his eyes to the road ahead, turns onto a dark street nearby, and parks his car on the curb. “Well, I mean you _are_ the only virgin in the group, right?”

 

“Yeah, but not _everyone_ knows that.”

 

“Oh honey, I think everyone knows,” Seokmin replies while sympathetically patting Wonwoo’s thigh. “Also, get your booty out of the car because we’ve arrived at our destination!”

 

Observing his surroundings, Wonwoo struggles to find an area in view that doesn’t look like an abandoned apocalypse town in a stereotypical zombie video game. “Are you sure it’s safe out there? Zombies aren’t going to come charging at us from around the corner, right?”

 

“Come on you big baby, just get out of the car.”

 

So he does, with much hesitation, and a hint of fear. Outside of the heated vehicle, the near-freezing temperature slices away any ounce of courage he had built into his system. This leaves a slightly scared, extremely hesitant, and fairly vulnerable Wonwoo out in a dark, vacant street.

 

Sensing Wonwoo’s weariness, Seokmin reaches up, linking his arms around the back of the taller’s neck.  “There’s no need to worry. The others are inside and everything is set up. We aren’t going to have a Halloween horror night. It’s just a miniature party, nothing insane.” Lifting his head up and pulling Wonwoo’s head down, Seokmin leans in, kissing the other as reassurance that nothing dangerous is going to happen. Deepening the kiss, Wonwoo’s heart flutters, feeling secure in the other’s arms. When the kiss breaks, Wonwoo gives Seokmin a nod as a non-verbal cue to move forward with their plans.  “Our sleeping bags and pillows are in the trunk. Yours is blue and mine is black, but both of the pillows are white, so just pick whichever one you want.”

 

Once they gathered their overnight belongings, they start walking to their final destination. “We’re not sleeping outside or anything, are we?”

 

Seokmin simply shakes his head ‘no’ and leads them into a dark alley where an abandoned building had been hiding behind the newer developments. “Welcome to the Ducor Palace Hotel!” Seokmin presents proudly while gesturing at the building with wide arms.

 

“How is this any better than sleeping outside?!”

 

“It’s Halloween! Embrace your inner sense of adventure!” No response from Wonwoo. “The boys are already inside, let’s not keep them waiting any longer, okay?”

 

“No way! This is too sketchy,” refuses the taller, crossing his arms in protest.

 

“Please?” Seokmin pleads while giving Wonwoo the saddest pout that he’d ever seen. _Don’t give in. Don’t give in. Don’t-_

“Ugh, fine.” _God damn it. Another reminder to self: stop falling for Seokmin’s puppy dog face, it’s only façade._ “But if this gets too questionable, we’re leaving immediately.”

 

“Yeah yeah whatever.” Two slow knocks followed by four quick ones, and they’re let into the lobby by security guard, actually vampire, Seungcheol. There are about 15 battery powered lamps spread across the entire room, flooding every surface with light. Now that he is in a well-lit area, surrounded by familiar faces, Wonwoo releases his earlier fears.

 

“Hey, guys! The two slow-poke lovers are finally here!”

 

Each member of the party rushes from their positions on the floor to surround the couple in a large group hug.

 

A struggling Wonwoo complains to the boys, “As much as I love you all, I might die from suffocation if you don’t let go.” They all release the two from the embrace, granting them the ability to breathe once again.

 

“Damn Wonwoo, don’t you just look like walking sex tonight?” In a black suit and red undershirt, stands Jeonghan. Half of the ends of hair are dyed blue while the other half, red. His eye-shadow colors correlate with the ends of his hair, but under one eye is a heart drawn in, most likely by the figure his arm is currently wrapped around: Minghao. From their phone conversation earlier, Wonwoo could’ve sworn that their outfits would have correlated in some way, but staring at the couple now, he can see that his guess had been wrong. Minghao’s, now brown, hair matches his headband with floppy puppy dog ears, which matches this light brown shirt that is tucked into his ripped, matching dark brown jeans, tied together by tan Docs and a set of whiskers drawn on in cheeks.

 

“Wow, Jeonghan, I see you helped Minghao go all out this year for his costume.”

 

“If I’m being honest, I just needed and excuse to dye his hair. That lavender was awful, and if he had gone through with his idea of being The Little Prince, he would have just ended up being a taller version of Jihoon, who is little, and is literally dressed like a prince right now.”

 

“Hey! Who are you calling little?” Prince Jihoon starts toward Jeonghan, but Seungcheol grabs the smaller by shoulders, pulling him back to his side.

 

Mingyu and Seungcheol are standing fairly close to each other, and in all honesty, Wonwoo can’t tell what the major differences are between them, since they both look like vampires. “Can you tell me how your costumes aren’t the exact same?”

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mingyu swings his cape and gestures to his old fashioned vest. “I’m Dracula and he’s Edward Cullen. We’re two completely different vampires. _Totally_ separate concepts.”

 

“I mean, if you say so.” Scanning the crowd, he knows he’s missing someone, until- “Oh Jisoos Christ, you’ve gotta be kidding me. A priest, Jisoo? Don’t you think that’s a little ridiculous.”

 

Jisoo reaches into a hidden pocket, pulls out a Bible, and smacks Wonwoo over the head with it. “Don’t you use the Holy Father’s name in vein!”

 

“I used your name…”

 

“Am I not the same thing?!”

 

“Alright!” Seokmin claps his hands, causing Jisoo and Wonwoo to stop bickering. “Now that we’ve thoroughly analyzed every aspect of everyone’s costume for no reason at all, let’s have a memorable Halloween!”

 

The group sets up their sleeping bags in a circle as make shift cushions. Seungcheol grabs a few bottles of soju from his duffle bag, while Jeonghan pulls out chips, candy, and a multitude of other unhealthy snacks.

 

“Wow! You two are like our parents! But you pack way cooler lunches that my mom does.” Hoshi reaches into the center of the circle for the bag of Chex Mix, but Jeonghan quickly hits his hand away.

 

“You have to earn them.”

 

“How do I do that?”

 

“With an extremely cheesy, yet educational, pick up line,” Jeonghan laughs at his own ridiculous idea while Seokmin begins clapping in excitement. _I bet he has a whole list stored in the back of his brain somewhere._

“Give an example, then.”

 

Jeonghan leans over, face intimately close, to a visibly flustered Minghao. _Poor boy, he doesn’t deserve this._ “Let’s find ourselves an empty room so I can show you my **Homo _erectus_**.”

 

Minghao immediately buries his crimson face in his hands while everyone else bursts into laughter.

 

“Seeing as you probably won’t be able to top mine, just take the Chex Mix as my gift to you.”

 

Mingyu suddenly buts in, “Oh! Oh! My turn!” He clears his throat before delivering his line, “I put the **bi** in **bi** pedalism.”

 

“It’s unfinished. It needs more,” Jeonghan says, thoroughly unimpressed.

 

“Well, since we put the **bi** in **bi** pedialism, let’s get together and put the **homo** in **Homo** _habilis,_ ” adds Jisoo, quickly saving Mingyu’s almost failed attempt at an anthropology pick up line.

 

“Fine, I’ll give it to you, but you have to share whichever snack you pick.” Already tired, Jeonghan rests his head on Minghao’s lap, the other instinctively begins combing through the red side of his hair. “I’m bored already. Let’s tell some scary stories before I fall asleep.”

 

“Even if an earthquake happened, you’d still fall asleep,” Seungcheol states.

 

Surprisingly, Jihoon speaks up for only the second time since Wonwoo had entered the hotel, “I have a pretty good story for everyone, but we have to turn off a few lamps to set the mood.”

 

“Why don’t you do it?” Questions Jun.

 

“Because I’m providing you with quality content, that’s why. Now get up at turn off some lamps.”

 

Obeying the pastel prince’s commands, Jun and Mingyu rise from their seated positions, bending over and turning off lamps until only the ones furthest from them were lit.

 

“Now that you’re both seated, Jun, get up and grab my phone from my bag over there,” Jihoon points to where his bag is laying, unzipped, away from their circle.

 

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend to do it?” Whines Jun. “Isn’t that what boyfriends are for?”

 

“No, that’s what best friends are for,” states Jihoon matter-of-factly. “Now, go grab my phone so I can tell this story.”

 

After over exaggerating how difficult it is to stand up for the second time after sitting down, Jun trudges over to Jihoon’s bag. Opening the front pouch, he rummages around until he feels what seems to be his Samsung Galaxy. “This is it right?” Questions Jun as he unlocks it, only to find a shirtless picture of Seungcheol as his wallpaper. “No wonder you can’t ever rampage on anyone when you’re with Seuncheol. He’s ripped as hell! How’d you even get someone like him?!”

 

“Shut up and toss me my phone!” Despite the dim lighting, Wonwoo swears he sees a tinge of pink rising across Jihoon’s cheeks. Jun chucks the phone over to Prince Jihoon, who catches the device without fail.

 

“They say that there’s a ghost in this hotel,” Jihoon begins, using his phone’s flashlight to shine under his face for dramatic effect. “Many years before this hotel had become the shit-hole it is today, a man named Seo Joon owned this establishment. His wife passed away soon after the hotel’s opening, but she left him with a stunning daughter, Hyunjin. While the father built a large house for the two of them, Yisook begged him for a room of her own. Eventually he built her a suite, room 544, where she spent most of her days.”

 

Jisoo scoffs as he cuts off Jihoon’s story, “544? That’s not even a scary number. I’m a priest and I deem that only 666 can be considered a room worthy of a horror story.”

 

“I know your parents came here from America, but do some fucking research on the country, okay? Four’s unlucky here. Get over it and avoid the number at all costs. As I was saying…she grew older an-”

 

“But they’re not even on the fourth floor,” Jun chimes in, “so what’s the point of it being unlucky?”

 

“Jun I know you’re from China, so how is it that you don’t seem to know even your own culture?” Jihoon replies angrily. “Listen, this hotel only has eight levels, and the highest button to get to floor eight, is nine because they skipped four, meaning that they’re technically still on the fourth floor, **so if we could just get back to the story at hand!** ” The boys fall back into silence, allowing the storytelling prince to move along. “When she was old enough to marry, she found herself a strong, handsome man who had been willing to take on the hotel with her once her father passed. Unfortunately, a strong man is what the military wants when there’s a war. With a broken heart and many tears, Hyunjin bid her faithful husband farewell, praying that he would return home safely. Once the fighting had stopped, she sat in the lobby every afternoon in hopes that she would receive information on where he was, or what had happened to him. She waited until one day she received a letter from her husband. He had told Hyunjin that he ran off with an American nurse where they moved to New York to open up an Italian restaurant. Immediately, she ran to her room in a rampage, planning to throw all of his belongings out of the window. Most of his belongings made it through except for his stainless steel cigarette case that had been hiding inside the chest pocket of his suit. Hitting the edge of the windowsill, the case flew out of the pocket with such force that when it made contact with Hyunjin’s forehead, she stumbled backwards, head landing directly on the living room table. The impact against her head killed her instantly. They say that the blood stains weren’t able to be removed, so her spirit still remains. At 2:15am, every night, the faint scent of pesto sauce and cigarettes fills the room while Hyunjin stares at her wedding portrait, waiting to exact revenge on the man who left her.”

 

Suddenly, the air feels much colder, causing the small hairs on the back of Wonwoo’s neck to stand on end.

 

“Okay. Story’s over. Turn on the lights so we can turn the fuck up,” Jihoon announces and he reaches for a bottle of soju. “Seriously you guys, I’m too sober for all of this nonsense,” he complains as he downs a few shots worth of alcohol in a few seconds.

 

“Babe, you should slow down,” says a concerned Seungcheol as he grabs the bottle from Jihoon’s hands.

 

“Hey! Give that back! I’m the prince, so I make the rules! My rule tonight is that I can drink that whole bottle of soju, and you can’t stop me.” He sticks his tongue out at the older, yanking the bottle back, drinking a few more gulps worth of alcohol before Seungcheol snatches it away from him for good.

 

“You’re 165cm and 54kg. I really don’t think it’s too smart to drink all of that in one sitting,” he advises as he twists the cap over the bottle. “Just wait about ten minutes and you’ll feel it.”

 

Jihoon doesn’t protest, but he places his face in a permanent pout, arms crossed, and eyes full agitation.

 

“Since you’ve ruined the horror story mood, why don’t we change up the atmosphere a bit?” Soonyoung suggests as he rubs his hands together. _This is going to be stupid, I can already tell._ “It’s time for truth or dare!”

 

“What is it with straight boys and truth or dare?” Questions Wonwoo. “I know it might be a tactic to pick up girls, but as you can see, it’s a complete sausage fest in here.”

 

“Your point is…? We can still have some fun!” He begins to move the snacks outside of the circle, but keeps the soju bottles in reach. “Jun, turn the lamps back on!”

 

“Are you kidding me?! Why do you all think I’m your slave?!”

 

“Because you are,” Soonyoung states as if it’s obvious. “Now, get to work and turn those lamps on!”

 

Mingyu speaks up before Jun finishes his task at hand, “Who are we starting at, and which way are we rotating? Also, do we count Jicheol as one entity now since prince charming is sitting on top of Seungcheol’s lap?”

 

“If you’re so confused, then we can just start with you,” says Jisoo.

 

“Okay sounds good.” Jun sits down just as Mingyu is ready to start. “Who’s going to ask the question?”

 

“Me!” Yells Seokmin as he raises his arm. “Truth, or dare?”

 

“Dare.”

 

Seokmin’s quiet for a bit, tapping his index finger on his chin until he is satisfied with his decision. “I dare you to lick all the way up Jisoo’s back. Flat tongue. No ‘tip of your tongue’ bullshit.”

 

“Whoa, man!” Jisoo waves his hands in front of him in protest. “Isn’t that more of a double dare?”

 

“You’re saying that you would refuse a dare?” Seokmin asks, right eyebrow raised. “I wouldn’t refuse a dare, seeing as those who refuse dares have to enter suite 544.”

 

With fear suddenly bulging out of his eye sockets, Jisoo agrees in a heartbeat, unzipping his costume in order to give Mingyu better access.

 

“I mean, you’re hot and all, but this is definitely not what I’m into,” says Mingyu as he leans down to the bottom of Jisoo’s exposed back. “I’m sorry.” He quickly apologizes before dragging his tongue up to the other’s neck.

 

“Oh, man!” Soonyoung yells into his phone’s screen. “That is _so_ going on my snapchat story!”

 

Picking up a bottle of soju, Mingyu untwists the cap and finishes off almost half of the beverage before it leaves his lips.

 

Reaching out for the soju, Jisoo asks, “Can I have the rest of that? I’m going to need a copious amount of alcohol to erase this from my mind.” Without hesitation, the bottle is given to Jisoo, who leaves it empty in a matter of seconds.

 

_Am I drunk every time that I’m with these boys? Now that I think of it… I can’t remember. Is it because I’m always drunk with them that I can’t remember?_

“Whenever we have a meeting with out group of friends, are we always drunk?” Wonwoo asks the male tucked snuggly under his left arm.

 

“Possibly?” Seokmin looks into Wonwoo’s eyes with uncertainty. “I feel my answer is a sign that we’re drunk when we all get together.” With that, he picks up an unopened bottle from his lap, and begins to join the others in their drinking festivities.

 

“Mingyu! It’s your turn!” Soonyoung calls out, reminding the others of the game that they’re halfheartedly playing.

 

“Um…”

 

“I got one!” Jeonghan shouts, even though it’s not his turn to elicit suffering unto someone else yet.

 

“It’s not your turn!” Seokmin shouts back. “Speaking out of turn has now caused you to ruin the game. Now off to the torture chamber of suite 544!” He commands as he points to the stairwell.

 

“Torture chamber? Sounds romantic, and slightly kinky.” Jeonghan says as he grabs a lamp with one hand and Minghao’s wrist with the other. “C’mon pup! Let’s have a little fun in our forbidden love box.”

 

Jeonghan’s comment lands him a solid slap to the chest. “First off, a haunted bedroom is _not_ romantic at all. Secondly, why do you feel the need to talk about our,” lowering his voice, “ _intimate_ life in front of my friends?”

 

“They’re my friends too, and my friends deserve to know different aspects of my life,” he replies in an unconcerned manner, yanking Minghao’s wrist behind him to the stairwell.

 

“Have fun you two!” Seokmin calls after them. “Remember to leave room for our Lord and Savior, Jisoos Christ!”

 

“I’d have to be a lot drunker than I am now in order to join in on a threesome with those two hooligans,” protests Jisoo.

 

“Do you really think they’re going to come back any time soon?” Mingyu asks innocently. “It _is_ a haunted room, after all.”

 

 “I mean, look at Jihoon and Seungcheol,” Jun gestures to the couple drunkenly locking lips, failing remember that they’re in plain view of everyone else. “and they’re not even in a private space.” He receives a middle figure from Jihoon, whose mouth is too preoccupied with Seungcheol’s, to fire back at him. “Plus, that story is probably complete made up bullshit, so I wouldn’t worry.”

 

“I see your point…” replies Mingyu as he rests his head on Jisoo’s lap. “Can you turn off the lamps again? I think I’ve had too much to drink, and this room wont stop moving.”

 

“Jun just do it,” Seokmin requests before the other is able to protest. “Mr. Garden Fairy and I have to combine our sleeping bags to make a bed, so our hands are full.” _Oh **are** we, now? _ “Wonwoo, unzip your sleeping bag to create the bed while I unzip mine to make our blanket.” Working together, a little sloppily due to the alcohol both have ingested, they create a sleeping bag sandwich. “It looks like it will fit us perfectly, yes?” He asks as he begins removing his costume.

 

 _I guess I should probably start doing the same._ Wonwoo starts removing his suit jacket, shoes, tie, and pants. “It wouldn’t really matter the size of our bed, I’m fine as long as I’m laying next to you.”

 

“Gross, get a room,” Soonyoung grumbles as the couple shimmies their way into the soft insides of their makeshift bed.

 

“Okay seriously?! I leave to turn off the lamps for five seconds and your tongue is already down Mingyu’s throat?!” Jun starts rolling out his sleeping bag, annoyed as he does so. “Why do people always couple up during these stupid events? Jisoo, I thought you were special. The one exception. Why you gotta play me like this?” Both males ignore him as they continue their drunken embrace.

 

“Oh shut up Jun and go to bed,” groans Soonyoung as he turns over in his sleeping bag.

 

Wonwoo and Seokmin make eye contact with each other and burst into a fit of giggles at how ridiculous this whole night has been. Seokmin’s eyes crinkle in the way that Wonwoo adores, making his heart do a flip, and in that moment they see no one else but each other. “I really like you,” says Wonwoo as he leans over, kissing the other on their forehead.

 

“I really like you too,” replies Seokmin as he turns around, back facing Wonwoo.

 

Wonwoo wraps an arm around his boyfriend, pulling him to his chest. He can’t help but think that their bodies fit like pieces of a puzzle, all too perfectly. Although they’re not doing anything other than sleeping together, his heart beats rapidly. He focuses on his slowing his breathing pattern until it matches the slumbering Seokmin’s.

 

That night he dreams of sunshine, tan skin, and a warm smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, what the hell did i do? i wrote two chapter's worth of words in one chapter. lol i saw a picture of jisoo and mingyu once longingly looking at each other, so why not give into temptation until seokwoo break up. these pairings are everywhere rn anyway, but mingsoo aren't going to be official or anything, just a drunken hook up, so don't worry. ANYWAYS i had fun writing this chapter and i hope it isn't too long or boring.


	7. Sickeningly Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some kisses, confused feelings, and nurse!minghao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a warning i came home from a party during finals week and drunkenly wrote this first scene.

**November 27, 2015**

**11:36pm**

 

Wonwoo shakes his head in confusion as he studies his math homework. The MAT 114 textbook isn’t helping him remember what he has learned in statistics this week, and his webwork is starting to give him a major headache. _Why is math required? I’m a fucking communication major._ He continues his work, one hand rubbing his temple, while the other attempts to solve the problem at hand. Confidence intervals might as well just throw his grades into the trash because there is no way in hell he will be able to perfect the correct method on how to solve them. _If the median is 312, then it would be 95% probability that the true percentage of voters in Seoul are… shit… there’s no use._ He buries himself in frustration, using his palms to raise his body from the desk prison he has trapped himself in for hours. Stretching his limbs for a moment, he sits still on the edge of his bed, rapidly nearing the point of exhaustion. _I can’t possibly pass this Quantitative Reasoning exam. I’ll just accept my C and move forward with my semester._

 

Eyes closed and ready for relaxation, Wonwoo settles himself into bed, no covers, yet warm from the indoor heating. It might be an inconvenience that the heating is from the wooden floors of the apartment, but at least the wind blowing in from vents doesn’t make him to overheat, causing him to wake up in a pool of his own moisture. He can’t count how many times he intended to nap for an hour his freshman year, only to find himself lying in sweat covered sheets. _Maybe I should lay off the nap until later._ Reluctantly lifting his wrist up from the cushions of his twin mattress, he checks his watch. _2:15 pm. I should just nap now before it’s too late to study._

 

A familiar tone begins ringing near Wonwoo’s left ear, and he blindingly pats his hand around on his comforter until his palm surrounds his cell phone. “Hello?”

 

“Hey, are you home?” Seokmin asks with a hint of hopefulness to his question. “I bought Thai food for the both of us. Also, I’m outside of your apartment. I really hope you’re home because it would be kinda shitty if I had done all of this, only for you to be out delivering chicken or something.”

 

“No, no, no. Don’t worry, I’m home,” Wonwoo reassures the younger. “I’ve just been overworking myself, studying for my math exam and all of that interesting and fun college stuff.”

 

Seokmin lets out a small laugh that reminds Wonwoo of Christmas bells chiming in December. “Okay University nerd, just let me in because it’s positively freezing outside. By positively, I mean negatively because it must be at least negative 50 degrees outside.”

 

Although his body is sore from sitting himself in the same position for hours on end, once again, he somehow manages to place his feet firmly on the ground. His heavy footsteps echo through the apartment, but Wonwoo doesn’t seem to care. Reaching for the door with his left hand, he rubs his tired eyes with a fist made by his right. The crack in the door quickly becomes a gaping entrance for Seokmin, leaving the younger with room to fully embrace Wonwoo, lips, hips, and everything in between. When Wonwoo normally kisses Seokmin, it’s as if he is lightly brushing his fingertips across warm rays of the sun, but now there is a sense of hunger attached to it. He’s pushing into the inner core, flames burning through his body as he kisses back, eager for the other’s touch. Pulling away, eyes half lidded and panting, Wonwoo asks, “We have Thai food, don’t we? Isn’t that what you’re here for?”

 

Seokmin rests his forehead gently on Wonwoo’s, amber eyes boring holes into the latter’s. He gives a slight upward curve of his lips before speaking, “I may have bought food as an excuse to visit you.” When setting the take-out bag on the counter, the plastic wrapping crinkles, creating a sound that distracts Wonwoo from the now. The scent of spicy curry surrounds the entranceway, and if it wasn’t for Seokmin’s tongue beginning to enter his mouth, he might’ve taken Seokmin’s earlier offer of cartoons and coconut chicken.

 

Wonwoo squeezes his eyelids shut as he closes and locks the door. _Soonyoung’s sleeping. I’d better move this to another area before he know’s what’s going on._ “If we’re going to continue this, we should take it to my room. I have a roommate, and a nosey one at that. If he wakes up and sees us, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

 

“Yeah,” Seokmin sucks lightly at Wonwoo’s exposed collarbone, causing the other to lose their train of thought, enveloping himself in this new sensation. “Whatever you want, babe.”

 

“Fuck. Stop,” heavily breathes Wonwoo, voice deep and raspy. He latches onto Seokmin’s wrist, that had previously been resting on the back of Wonwoo’s neck, and drags him into the privacy of his own room. Wonwoo slams the door shut once the last of Seokmin’s body enters his room. “Touch me, I’m begging you.”

 

Answering his pleas almost immediately, Seomin leaves a trail of kisses across Wonwoo’s sharp jaw, down to his neck while dragging his fingertips along the bottom of his torso . There are slight tugs at the hem of his shirt, and the taller complies without hesitation. Somewhere along the mess of kisses and lost shirts, they lay on a twin sized bed, engrossed in the glistening of each other’s skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” Wonwoo compliments Seokmin, lust coating each syllable as he speaks. They make eye contact when their lips part, both brown irises blanketed in longing for a closeness they have yet to feel.

 

Hands rake down thighs as lips pull with precision, breaking blood vessels on sensitive skin. Every one of Seokmin’s fingers burns imprints into Wonwoo’s ribcage as he attempts to keep the noises escaping from his mouth at a minimum. “Maybe we should stop,” suggests Wonwoo, overheated, eyes struggling to stay open.

 

“There are only a few spots where you can see that I’ve marked you,” lightly complains Seokmin’s swollen lips. “I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

 

Wonwoo reaches up to brush away Seokmin’s chocolate-colored, yet damp, bangs that have begun to stick to his forehead. “Trust me, they already know,” he confirms as he pulls the other down into a heated embrace.

 

\--------------------

 

**November 28, 2015**

**8:45am**

 

Rays of sunlight pierce through the folds of the bedroom blinds, decorating Wonwoo’s body in shades of gold. Warmth from the light coats his skin, causing him to stir from his slumber. A smile creeps onto his face as he remembers the previous night’s debauchery. Rubbing out the grogginess from his eyes and the soreness running along the length of his neck, he reaches out for Seokmin, only to feel empty crumpled sheets. In a mere matter of seconds, Wonwoo’s teeming heart deflates into the back of his chest. All of the energy he had just gathered is now extricating from his pores; a thick layer of melancholy coating the room. With heavy limbs, he manages to stand himself upright, not completely balanced, but at least he’s on two feet. The tile cools the soles of his feet as he enters his restroom. Staring at his shirtless figure in the mirror, he can’t help but trace over the marks Seokmin had left behind. If the circumstances were different, maybe he would look at them with affection, but as for now, he looks at them with hatred for his foolishness. After all of these years, pushing people away so that they are unable to leave, to let one in, one he thinks is special, only for them to vanish like the others.

 

When reaching for his toothpaste, Wonwoo spots his phone ringing near the edge of the sink’s counter: _Seokmin._ With much hesitation, he slides the call to _Ignore_ and turns on the water. He begins to lazily stroke the wet bristles of his toothbrush, too distracted by his emotions to attend to the previous task at hand.

 

A banging at his door slams his imagination into reality, “Hey, you sleepy butt! I know you’re awake because you just ignored my call!” Suddenly Wonwoo’s head feels like it has been injected with adrenaline, for his empty heart is pumping at hypersonic speeds, and the sadness he had been burrowing into his bones is immediately washed away. “I was trying to make sure you would be ready for breakfast, I made dumpling soup!” Excitement blankets his voice through the wooden barrier between them.

 

Slowly, Wonwoo’s senses are kicking into gear, and he can now smell the broth cooking in the kitchen. How absurd he had been for thinking Seokmin to be the type to leave. It’s not like they had sex or anything, even if they were damn-near close to it, but it’s still a moment that Wonwoo wants to keep somewhere special in his memory: their first night together.

 

Quickly, Wonwoo shuffles his fatigued body over to the door, swinging it open and greeting the other with a kiss. Seokmin tastes like morning breath, but Wonwoo expects that the taste of his own lips can’t be any better. Luckily, Seokmin drowns himself in the embrace that is Wonwoo’s alarm clock, fully waking his mind. They break their kiss reluctantly, after what seems to be a short-lived moment of contact, when Wonwoo’s stomach begins to grumble.

 

Wonwoo is first to break the silence, “I need to brush my teeth and then I’ll be right back out.” He begins to turn around before speaking up once more, “Also, there should be a brand new toothbrush in the closet where we keep the towels. Feel free to use it so that your perfect smile doesn’t deteriorate. Plus, if we have more nights together, it’d be smart just to have your own.”

 

“Okay, sounds good,” Seokmin replies with the smallest hint of a smile in his eyes before closing the door once more.

 

As he brushes his teeth, Wonwoo finds the constant growling within his stomach to be overbearing, so he cuts his task short, pulling a random shirt over his frame as he makes his way to the kitchen. Inhaling a deep breath through his nose, he closes his eyes, letting the delicious breakfast spices seep into his body. When he opens them, he sees a tan figure who has engraved himself deeply into Wonwoo’s brain, stirring the pot of soup in front of him. His eyes travel from their gently morning-mused hair to the trail of dark marks along the side of his neck, matching Wonwoo well. Instead of continuing to stare at his boyfriend, Wonwoo nuzzles down into the other’s neck. Seokmin smells of fresh jasmine on a spring afternoon, although his eyes, teeth, lips, and skin are so strikingly similar to summer. When Seokmin begins to speak, Wonwoo can feel vibrations running along the top of his head.

 

“I think I’m gonna audition for an entertainment company. Earlier this week I saw an advertisement on a variety show stating that they’re holding open auditions later today.”

 

Wonwoo removes his head from the crook of Seokmin’s neck in order to make eye contact with him. “You have such an amazing voice. It should be shared with the world.” He smiles widely before bending down and placing a light kiss on Seokmin’s forehead. “Instead of standing around, we should probably get on with our morning so that you can go home and prepare for your audition,” suggest Wonwoo as he heads to the cupboard for utensils.

 

Two perfectly placed bowls are now sitting on the table connected to the other side of the kitchen. Seeing as there are two barstools, they have the perfect setting for an intimate morning together. At least, it starts off this way, with silly banter while chewing on mouthfuls of dumplings, and small talk about how their classes are coming along. Just as Wonwoo is preparing himself for some ridiculously cheesy jokes to be spilled from Seokmin’s lips, a yawn is heard coming from the direction of Soonyoung’s room. “Goooood morning you little love birds,” coos Soonyoung as he lazily scratches his head. “I could smell the food from my room so I decided to come and investigate. By investigate, I mean I’m always hungry and I’m trying to mooch off of you while Wonwoo has a boyfriend who can cook much better than he can.” _So much for a romantic breakfast for two._ Soonyoung saunters over to the kitchen and pulls a bowl down from the cabinet.

 

“It’s fine,” Seokmin says as he grabs both of the dirty bowls from the counter. “We were just finishing up. I have some business to attend to.”

 

“Well I hope that business includes wearing a turtleneck,” giggles Soonyoung as he flicks one of Seokmin’s visible hickies.

 

Seokmin’s cheeks immediately brighten with color as he slaps a hand to his neck, attempting to cover the rest of the broken blood vessels. “I should probably do something about that pretty soon.”

 

“So I’ll take this as your queue to leave… me with all of this food?” Soonyoung asks as he shovels dumplings into his mouth, two at a time.

 

“I guess so,” replies Seokmin with a wink. Before Wonwoo is able to protest, Seokmin has already given him a swift kiss, grabbed his keys, and left the apartment.

 

For a few lingering moments, Wonwoo stares at the closed door where he had last seen Seokmin until a familiar voice breaks him from his trance.

 

“Hey. You gonna eat that last dumpling?”

 

\--------------------

 

**5:18pm**

 

The sun has moved to a position where it no longer allows its natural glow to break through the apartment windows. Sitting on the couch, Wonwoo mindlessly flips through the channels on his television. Nearing the end of the Running Man marathon, he decides his brain cannot take the intensity, so he opts to switch to a calmer station. Classical music? _No. That’s for Jihoon._ Planet Earth? _Nap worthy._ Pororo? _I’m not five…_ By the time he begins scrolling through the the cable listings for the fourth time, he shuts off the television, switches on a lamp, adjusts his glasses, and cracks open his favorite tableside book.

 

Reading the familiar words on worn pages helps ease his slight homesickness, causing the tension in his shoulders to lessen after every chapter. He lifts the open book to his nose, inhaling the trapped scent of the house he grew up in, mixed with the usual undertones of broken down cellulose and lignin. His heart swells with sudden sadness and he reaches up to the corner of his right eye, quickly swiping away a tear before it’s able to slide down his cheek. In the blink of an eye,  his mood shifts and he no longer feels like reading. As he sets down his book, the doorbell rings.

 

“I’ll get it!” Wonwoo calls to Soonyoung.

 

“Okay good because I’m busy playing - JUN WOULD YOU STOP SHOOTING ME? WE’RE ON THE SAME TEAM!”

 

Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo slowly walks to the entryway, opening the door to reveal a tall, slim figure. His expression seems calm and friendly, but simultaneously unreadable.

 

“Okay so I know this is kind of a weird request,” begins Mingyu as he fidgets with his watch, “but I know you’re pretty close with Minghao, and Jeonghan’s sick, and Minghao made Insam and hot & sour soup, but he forgot the Insam, and he worked so hard on it, and now Jeonghan is all puking and stuff, so Mingha-”

 

Wonwoo places his hands out in front of him to stop the blabbering fool from continuing his influx of speech . “Okay shoe trees, let’s take it slow and cut it down. What exactly do you need from me?”

 

“Minghao is stuck with a sick and whiny Jeonghan, and he left his the Insam he made, in our apartment. I don’t have a car and I was _really_ hoping that you would be so kind as to drive the soup and me to Jeonghan’s place? It’s fine if you don’t want to I just-”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Wonwoo zips up his jacket, slides softly into his boots, reaches over to the key rack, and plucks his keys from the middle hook. “I wasn’t doing anything productive before, so let’s go be a marvel superhero and save the day.”

 

The slow pace of their walk down the stairwell makes his words ultimately anticlimactic, and the silence between the them is starting to cause Wonwoo discomfort. _Play it cool. Play it cool. It’s just a silent walk with your stupid, hot, neighbor who kind of annoys you. His stupid pointy teeth. His stupid pretty eyelids. His stupid smooth skin. His stupid crinkly eye smile. His stupid cinnamon and stupid shoe trees._

 

“Your car is black, right?”

 

Wonwoo releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding in. “Yeah, it’s this one right here.” He gestures to the car with his remote as he unlocks it. “It’s not the most extravagant car, but my little Jetta gets me around.”

 

“Also, I think these stairs are really helping your clumsy long limbs tone up,” begins Mingyu as he opens the passenger side door. “Your jeans were _so_ baggy and now they’re only kinda baggy. Congrats kid.”

 

“First, I’m older than you, second, you’re a tree with dangly branch-limbs, lastly, don’t forget who’s driving us to Jeonghan’s house! I swear I will turn this car around!” Wonwoo warns as he threatens to pull his keys from the car’s ignition. _I swear this kid better shut his mouth before I slap him again._

 

“Whoa, no need to get defensive. I was simply giving you a compliment.”

 

“Simply giving me a compliment, my ass,” mumbles Wonwoo in reply.

 

“Oh trust me, I’ve complimented your ass before.” Wonwoo detaches his right hand from his steering wheel, fist making heavy contact with the taller’s shoulder, extracting a yelp from Mingyu’s mouth. “Hey! I was simply stating the facts! You were naked and I could see _everyth_ **_-_ ** ”

 

“Wow! Would you look at that?!” Exclaims Wonwoo as he moves the gear shift from drive to park. “We’re here! Just in time, too. I think it’s going to rain soon.” He cranes his neck over his car’s dashboard to catch a better peek at the darkening clouds above. Before he can react, fingers are flicking his ear, causing his head to jerk upward and crash into to window. “Ow! What the hell?!”

 

“C’mon lemongrass, this soup needs to be delivered as soon as possible! One more snapchat from Minghao of Jeonghan throwing up, and I’ll end up needing that soup to cure my own nausea.” He mocks puking by covering his mouth with his hands, keeling over, and puffing his cheeks out.

 

“Fine, let’s go inside and help heal this sick angel. Also, don’t call me lemongrass. We still aren’t that close.”

 

Deep, chocolate-colored irises stare down at Wonwoo as Mingyu sadly pouts. “That’s not fair! You called me shoe trees again!”

 

“Who’s trying to win my friendship?” Wonwoo cups a hand to his ear overdramatically waiting for a response.

 

“I am…”

 

“That’s right! So stop constantly annoying me.” He uses his free hand to buzz into the complex’s speaker box. “Doe-eyed boyfriend of Jeonghan’s, open the gates of hell and let us into your sick sanctuary, please!” _Buzz. Click._

 

“Access granted.”

 

After spending their drive in clouded gloom, the sudden onset of fluorescent lighting causes Wonwoo’s eyes to burn. Using the back of his hands, he rubs his eyes until they are somewhat adjusted. “Did Minghao tell you which apartment he’s in? I’m not about to knock on every door in this building.”

 

“Yeah, just a sec.” Mingyu rakes his phone out of his back pocket and begins to scroll through his messages. “725.”

 

A sigh of relief breaks through Wonwoo’s lips as his eyes land upon an elevator. Even after months of walking up and down those three flights of stairs, his legs and respiratory system are not yet built up for the challenge of seven floors. Mingyu’s earlier comment floats around the back of his mind as he stares down at his thin legs. While waiting for the elevator to reach their destination, Wonwoo takes a moment to examine the younger’s outfit. Since he had ditched his navy jacket and thrown it over his arm, Mingyu’s simple salmon v-neck is visible, hanging loosely against his frame. His tan skin is complimented by the slight pink shade, and Wonwoo certainly doesn’t mind that his collar bones are in full-view. Whitewashed, distressed jeans expose patches of his bronzed complexion and it causes Wonwoo to feel self conscious about his wrinkled black shirt paired with dirty jeans he pulled out from his laundry basket earlier. _This is ridiculous, why the hell am I comparing myself to this human tree? Human walking sex on legs? Human constant annoyance to my life?_  The doors of the elevator slide open, cutting off his train of thought. Yet, he finds himself tugging at his shirt, attempting to pull out the wrinkles in order to look slightly more presentable when standing next to a fashionable masterpiece.

 

Before reaching Jeonghan’s door, Wonwoo pulls out his phone and dials Minghao’s number. “Hey, we’re almost to your door, but I don’t want to get Jeonghan’s sickness, so could you open it for us?”

 

“I mean I’ve disinfected everything that isn’t his bed, so you shouldn’t get sick, but I _guess_ I could open the door for you two tall needy beans.”

 

 _Beans. That’s a first._ “Thanks!” Almost instantly after the call ends, Minghao’s brown mess of hair is peeking into the hall, eyes shining with happiness. Wonwoo cannot recall a single moment since he first met Minghao when moving in, where his eyes lacked their glimmer of cheer. Mingyu’s told him once before that he was yelled at by Minghao over simple cooking instructions, but Wonwoo finds that difficult to believe.

 

“Sup roomie! Brought the soup! Sorry it took so long, but grandpa over here likes to space out and walk at the speed of a sleeping snail.” Mingyu crosses his arms and rolls his eyes in obvious annoyance.

 

“I don’t think snails move when they’re sleeping.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Anyways, if that’s all you’ll be needing,” begins Wonwoo as he grabs onto Mingyu’s arm. “I think we’ll just head on ou-”

 

Without giving the boys time to react, Minghao pulls them into the confines of Jeonghan’s apartment. “Nonsense! I’m making food for us to eat tonight! It’s my treat since you two made the trip out here.” _The drive was 10 minutes but whatever._ “You’re such saints.”

 

“My darling boyfriend who I love and cherish so much, I am in need of assistance!” Jeonghan’s whining plea causes Minghao to stop his task at hand and rush through the apartment’s bedroom doors.

 

“What is it? What do you need?”

 

“I need need cuddles.” Wonwoo pokes his head in to see Jeonghan making grabby hands at Minghao until they lock their fingers together. Looking at them makes his heart flutter. Strands of blonde hair stick to Jeonghan’s neck and forehead. His face is pale, causing the bags under his eyes to appear deep-set and nearly black. The collar of his light purple t-shirt is darkened from the perspiration caused by his fever breaking. In Wonwoo’s opinion, Jeonghan looks like a hollowed out zombie, but Minghao gazes down with eyes filled to the brim with adoration. A smile plasters itself onto Wonwoo’s face, and he can’t help but feel a sudden jerk at his stomach, a sudden longing for a love so effortless and true.

 

Warm breath tickles itself against Wonwoo’s ear as Mingyu speaks. “I know. Absolutely disgusting, right? I have to deal with this at _least_ twice a week… if I’m lucky.”

 

Wonwoo turns his head around, underestimating the size of the gap between himself and Mingyu. Their noses almost clash, but don’t, instead, Wonwoo is seemingly stuck in place, eyes wide as he is caught off-guard. A familiar scent of cinnamon dances off of Mingyu’s lips and overwhelms Wonwoo’s senses. He can’t help but take in how flawless and smooth his skin is, and is once again jealous of his lack of imperfections, and visible pores for that matter. His heart rate is picking up and he feels like bats are bouncing around in his stomach. _Beep. Beep. Beep._ The microwave’s alarm snaps each of the boys out of their gaze, causing them to stare off in different directions, heat pulling color to each cheek.

 

“As much as I’d love to stand here holding your clammy hands, your soup is ready,” coos Minghao as he places gentle pecks on each of Jeonghan’s knuckles. He then dashes past both of the suspicious looking boys, too busy tending to his lover to notice the strange air settling around them.

 

Mingyu leaves Jeonghan’s doorway first, and heads toward the beige couch in the living room. _So much for getting comfortable._ Noticing the option he was going to choose is now occupied by Mingyu, he enters Jeonghan’s room and sits in his massage chair. _Of course this living sloth would own a massage chair_. “Hey.” Wonwoo knows his greeting is awkward and it doesn’t feel quite right when it leaves his mouth.

 

“Hi,” Jeonghan weakly giggles in reply, sensing the awkwardness in the air.

 

“I hope you know that Minghao is head-over-heels in love with you. I don’t want you going out and breaking his heart. He’s tougher than he looks, but he’s also delicate in nature. Minghao deserves someone who will cherish his everything.”

 

Jeonghan wipes his sweaty hair strands away from his face and turns his head to make better eye contact Wonwoo. “I know I might come off as someone who doesn’t care for relationships, and to be fair, before Minghao, I just slept around, but I don’t want to sleep around anymore. I just want to sleep with him. I know it sounds crazy since we’ve only been dating for a few months, but when you find someone who makes your heart feel like it’s going to beat out of your chest every time you look at them, you know that they’re something special.” Wonwoo notices the change in Jeonghan’s sick and weakened tone as he talks about his boyfriend. If Wonwoo placed himself in another room and just listened to his voice, he wouldn’t be able to tell that Jeonghan is bed ridden from illness. “You know you’ve found that special someone when you’re in constant need of their physical contact, even if you’re lightly brushing fingertips. Each touch sends jolts of electricity through your veins. Every element to their personality seems flawless. Each day you fall a little harder for them and you start to wonder how your heart can hold so much affection without bursting.” He lets out a small yawn as his eyelids begin to droop. It’s immediately apparent that he’s about to fall asleep at any moment possible. “All of those things I just said, I feel them all when I’m with Minghao. I hope being with Seokmin makes you feel that way as well.” The last of the sentence is slightly mumbled, his eyes fully close, and sleep coats his body. Coming from someone who constantly cracks inappropriate jokes and is never serious when speaking, his words seem sincere and true. Wonwoo decides to blame it on him being sick for breaking down the facade he puts up for everyone other than Minghao.

 

“Okay my beautiful prince, time for some delicious so- are you serious?!” Minghao drops the metal spoon back into the ceramic bowl, causing droplets of broth to splash over the edge. “I already have you falling asleep on me enough when you’re _not_ sick.” Although Jeonghan had just swept his hair from his face, Minghao sets the soup on his bedside table and attempts to push all of his sticky strands back into their normal place. He then sits on the bed, leans over, and places a kiss on the the tip of Jeonghan’s nose before rising back to his previous standing position.

 

“Sorry about the delay, but how’s about I make you two tall string beans some chicken?” _We’ve moved from needy to strings. What a world for the life of a bean._

 

“I’ll be in the kitchen in just a second, I have to send a text first.” What Jeonghan had said before he had fallen asleep is spiraling through Wonwoo’s mind, and he sees tan skin and kind eyes when he thinks about who makes his stomach twist into knots. He thinks about beautiful teeth and an adorable laugh. He thinks about two males who fit these criteria. He thinks about how he may have to cut ties with one to hold on tighter to the other. He thinks he’s going to text Seokmin for plans that distract him from the strange feelings that make his heart race when he’s close to Mingyu. He thinks and thinks and before he can text who he is thinking about, his phone buzzes.

 

 **Seokmin:** call out of work on friday because i have something really special planned for us, okay?

 

 **Wonwoo:** sounds like a date :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo i'm really excited for the next chapter. it's gonna be good (at least i have a feeling that you guys might like it a lot) BUT THE PLOT THICKENS or i mean the meanie feels thicken i guess? sorry it took so long to update, finished my first year at uni, came home and immediately got a job, and i've been spending my time chillin at disneyland with my friends or my dad. BUUUUUUUUT here it is. i've also been playing around with my writing, so sorry if it's different than what you're used to. i hope you enjoyed it!


	8. My Shining Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Café runs, Condoms, and Churros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, my editing job was fast, but i justed really wanted to post this. also i'm sorry since i've used this fic to play around with my writing style. it feels like my writing has changed a bit since the beginning, so thanks for stickin it through on this journey with me.

**Friday.**

What wakes Wonwoo up is not the incessant snoring of Seokmin laying against his chest, or the early morning light streaming through his window; it’s the blaring alarm coming from his bedside table. The sound pulls him from his dreams of mario kart racing against his friends, and pushes him into the upsetting reality of waking up early on a friday. Reluctantly, he rolls onto his side, Seokmin clutching to his t-shirt and whining in protest, and reaches over to grab his obnoxious phone. A sigh of relief escapes from his lips as he unlocks the device, stopping the alarm in its tracks. Giving into temptation, Wonwoo pulls up the covers and snuggles back comfortably into his boyfriend’s arms, closing his eyes for just a few more moments.

 

Soft lips press lightly against his as if to keep him awake. “Just five more minutes,” he mumbles onto the mouth of the other in protest. He can feel that special smile that makes his heart melt forming just in front of his face. Not one to resist temptation, Wonwoo opens his eyes which intake a sight that makes his morning brighter. Deep brown irises study his face as if he’s attempting to embed Wonwoo’s face deep into his memory.

 

“C’mon sleepy butt, we have to get ready,” Seokmin states just before kissing Wonwoo’s forehead and lugging himself out of the covers.

 

Low grumbles of discontent are emitted from Wonwoo, but Seokmin pays them no mind. Instead, he heads over to Wonwoo’s side of the bed and pulls at his arms until both of them are finally standing.

 

“There,” Seokmin beams, “ready to start the day.”

 

While getting dressed, Seokmin comments on the state of Wonwoo’s appearance. How he manages to have tufts of hair sticking out in multiple directions every time he wakes up is still a mystery to most. There’s a moment when he contemplates changing his conditioner, or his nightly regime of showering before bed, but he shrugs it off while running sink water through his hair.

 

Morning routines feel dull to him. It’s full of the same movements, the same chores, the same breakfast. Nothing interesting, everything monotonous. Even the clothing Seokmin is wearing matches the humdrum feeling of the morning; a thick, grey, woven long-sleeve shirt, and an even thicker, black, jacket for when they have to face the harsh winter air. Looking over his outfit, he can’t say that it’s particularly more colorful than Seokmin’s, but at least the deep navy of his coat matches the boring atmosphere.

 

In the restroom, Seokmin is styling his hair, changing it up from the usual mop of fringe he lets hang just around his eyebrows. Dark chocolate colored locks are parted and pushed back, revealing more of his golden skin. This is Wonwoo’s favorite look; so handsome and clean in comparison to himself and his haphazard appearance. There’s a part of him that can’t help but be a little annoyed that it takes so much time, but he lets it slide today. Leaning on the doorframe with his left hand, he admires this scene for a few minutes. A moment like this pulls him away from his distaste for mornings. Before long, he withdraws from his position, and wraps his arms around the waist of the smaller, nuzzling his head into Seokmin’s neck and giving it a few light pecks.

 

“Stop it,” Seokmin protests while giggling, “you’ll make me mess up my hair.”

 

All pouts and doe-eyes, Wonwoo unwraps his arms from around Seokmin’s waist. “Fine. I’ll just go make breakfast.” _The same breakfast, once again._

 

“No. Don’t. We won’t have time. Let’s just stop and grab something on the way to the subway. I’ll get a little muffin for _my_ little muffin.” He smiles and pinches one of Wonwoo’s cheeks while Wonwoo internally cringes. It’s not so much internal because there’s a clear look of distaste spread across his face. “Wow. Tough crowd. _Anyways_ if you’re ready to go, we can head out because my masterpiece,” Seokmin points to his hair, “is finished.”

 

As expected the air is frigid, causing Wonwoo’s cheeks to brighten and his nose to run. There’s a sudden longing for those warm summer days that make the heart flutter. Soft white cotton shirts that contrast so well with bright green grass; perfect for sprawling out on and watching the clouds as they pass by. During the beginning stages of their relationship, when the weather had not yet turned for the worse, Seokmin and Wonwoo would visit the nearest park and lay on the grass together. They’d spend hours talking about their future, what they wanted to do after college, and how they’re both scared of what happens when they graduate. It was comforting to Wonwoo when finding out that he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t completely figured it all out. In a big city, the world is constantly moving, and at times, it’s such a struggle to keep up. How does one plan to skip ahead and worry about their future? So they’d stop. Stop the talk of their future, stop the conversations that tie his stomach in knots with nervousness, stop speaking of becoming an actual adult, and they’d begin indulging in their child-like tendencies. Staring up at the clouds, they would attempt to find pictures in them. Sometimes there were elephants and rainbows, while other times there were pirate ships and horseshoes. Of course, there were many instances where one could not see exactly what the other was seeing, but they’d nod along as if they had. Wonwoo would prop his head up on his elbow while he admired his new boyfriend. The autumn sun glimmering off of his brassy skin as he nodded off somewhere between talking about the time he fell off of the stage at an improv show and Wonwoo expressing how doesn’t know if he could handle both Seokmin and Soonyoung if they somehow befriended each other. Soft, slow breaths would escape the latter’s lips as Wonwoo would trace them over with his eyes. Lips that he had only touched with his own a few times before that moment. Lips that complimented his smile so well. Lips that were now his to touch. It was nice. It was comfortable. It wasn’t cold and tired and numb like the current state of Wonwoo’s body in this weather. Unpleasant thoughts raid through his mind. Is this a precursor to where their relationship is headed, or could it just be the thick grey clouds looming above him messing with his entire attitude?

 

Normally, Wonwoo spends his winters curled up in his warmest blanket, a sweet pea scented candle lit on his nightstand, while he reads until the early hours of the morning. Sometimes Soonyoung would order pizza while they sat in front of their tv and watched a cheesy Christmas movie, or three. One night there had been so many, he'd just decided to stop counting. Instead, he counted how many mugs full of alcoholic eggnog Soonyoung would drink until he started sloppily dancing to the background music of sleigh bells and children laughing. It was a strange sight, but at least with a roommate like him, Wonwoo was never bored. Now, he’s spending his winter cuddled up on the couch, when he’s not holed up in his room doing school work or out delivering chicken, as he talks over a cup or two of hot chocolate to Seokmin until he falls asleep. Every time this happens, Seokmin leaves a note on the kitchen counter, waking up wrapped in his favorite blanket. It’s different. He feels cared for, so that’s at least nice, but he can’t say that it’s any better or worse than it had been last year. Most of time is spent inside, so he hasn’t complained, until now.

 

After their walk down to the parking lot, he feels a longing for the heated seats of his car. _Why can’t we just take my car? Why do we have to ride the subway?_ _Why am I being subjected to such torture?_ Multiple complaints fall from his lips within the first five minutes of walking, all while he tugs on the sleeve of Seokmin’s jacket. Complaints about his nose running, or his breath fogging up his glasses, or his fingers being cold. Seokmin simply pays them no mind, dismissing them with, “I have tissues in my pocket, you can stuff them in your nose if you’d like,” and, “You could’ve worn your contacts like you usually do,” and, “If you stopped tugging on my sleeve, your hands wouldn’t be so cold.” All logical answers, but the complaints continue.

 

“You know that my eyes dry up in the cold. Contacts would make them hurt every time I blinked.”

 

“They have eye drops for a reason,” says Seokmin as he rolls his eyes. “There’s a corner store up ahead, why don’t we stop there and buy some hand warmers? We’ll need them today.” He grabs Wonwoo’s hand and gives it a tight squeeze. This comment rests in Wonwoo’s mind as he lists all of the possible activities they could be doing in this weather, at this hour. None of the ideas popping into his head seem to be good ones, but Seokmin seems excited, so he decides to keep a slightly positive outlook on the situation.

 

A blast of warm air greets both of the boys as they open the doors to the convenience store. All of Wonwoo’s toes that were once fighting frostbite, are beginning to defrost slowly. Changing quickly from the cold air into the warmth of the building causes his slow running nose to become a dripping snot machine. For a split second he contemplates on stepping back out of the double doors and then realizes it’s foolish to think such things. Thankfully the closest open pocket on Seokmin’s jacket is the one with travel tissues and, not for the first time, Wonwoo scolds himself for never preparing himself enough for the Winter season.

 

“I’m getting a headache, probably from all of your whining,” Seokmin says jokingly, “could you grab me some Tylenol while I get the hand warmers?”

 

Nodding his head in response, Wonwoo walks toward the medicine section. Endless nights of staying up watching horror films about zombie apocalypses and creatures in the mist are constantly in the back of his mind as he walks through clean aisles, underneath the harsh fluorescent lighting. Silently he chides himself for watching so many of them, but they're an excuse to crack horrendous jokes about the dumb choices of the main characters, so how could he refuse? Maybe now that he thinks about it, he should probably cut back since it’s interfering with his corner store trips.

 

Near the back of the shop is where the medicine and personal healthcare items are held. Tired eyes scan through bottles with mostly red and blue labels until he's able to find the pain relievers. It’s a jumbled mess of name-brand products that all work the same but are priced higher than necessary for no actual reason. Why companies do this, Wonwoo has no clue, mostly because he’s not a marketing major, and partially because he hasn’t found the topic to strike enough of his interest. Living as a poor college student, he can’t help but search to find a generic label hiding near the end of the section. His fingertips brush along the row, skimming across the plastic bottles until he spots what he needs. When reaching out to grab the pills, his hand accidentally knocks against someone else’s.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry I’ll just-” Wonwoo begins to apologize in a flustered manner. Awkward interactions with strangers are not his forte, so he keeps his eyes fixed down at the the other’s shoes. Strikingly _familiar_ shoes. Black wingtips with broguing along the edges and sloppily tied laces. As he moves his line of sight slowly upward he tries to get a grasp at what type of outfit he was going for. Deep purple sweatpants hang loosely around his hips while a bright orange jacket wraps itself snuggly around a long slender frame. Soft-looking tan skin and a moss colored hat are the only earth-toned items that could somewhat bring the outfit together. Overall he looks like an absolute mess, as if he threw it together last minute before running out of the door. He spots sleek, yet strong, fingers gripping lightly onto a box of condoms and Wonwoo can’t say he’s surprised. “Shit. Mingyu. Hi.” A smile he knows looks incredibly forced is placed on his now, slightly reddened, face.

 

“Hey,” he replies with a crooked smile. Every time Mingyu flashes his teeth, Wonwoo can’t help but stare at how white and pronounced his canines are. They could probably pierce through flesh if he tried. _Not the time or place to think about people or zombies eating you._ “How've you been? It feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”

 

“I saw you a couple of days ago.” Images of salmon a colored shirt and his face too close for a friendship’s comfort dance around in Wonwoo’s mind. “How’s Jeonghan doing? Is he recovering well?”

 

“Turns out it was some kind of 24-hour bug or something, but now that he’s healthy, they’re out of _supplies_ ,” he shakes the box of condoms in his left hand, “and since I lost a bet yesterday, I have to be Minghao’s personal slave for the weekend.”

 

“What was the bet?” It could be the way he runs his fingers through his matted fringe, or the way his adam’s apple bops up and down while he talks, but Wonwoo feels a pull to the other as if he's _actually_ interested.

 

Mingyu pauses, trying to find a way to phrase his experience last night without it seeming too ridiculous and idiotic. “It may or may not have involved a certain fruit and a certain beverage and I may or may not ever eat said fruit or said beverage again in my entire lifetime.” Since he obviously doesn’t want to expand on the subject, Wonwoo decides not to pry, but he makes a mental note text Minghao about it later. A ding from Mingyu’s pocket sounds and light shines through his purple sweatpants. “It’s probably Minghao yelling at me to get back home. Also, can I see your phone for a second?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Why?” Gingerly, Wonwoo pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket, placing it into Mingyu’s open palm.

 

“Just wait,” replies Mingyu as he quickly moves his thumbs across the screen. He then taps the call icon, taps the end call icon soon after, locks the item, and hands it back to Wonwoo. “Now you have my number just in case you need something, or if you just want to hang out and stare at my beautiful face. See ya around lemon drop,” says Mingyu with a wink and a wave. _See ya around, shoe trees._

 

“What took you so long?” Asks Seokmin, startling Wonwoo from his thoughts of long legs and pointy teeth. “This store isn’t even big enough to fit a two whole elephants inside, how could you not find it?”

 

“Technically I _did_ find it because I’m staring at it right now, but I just got a little distracted. Also, two elephants can take up a _lot_ of space.”

 

“Oh whatever. You know what I mean.”

 

Having only two items to buy makes checking out a breeze, but that only means they’re back outside in the gelid winter air faster than Wonwoo had hoped. At least this time his hands are buried deep in his pockets clenching onto hot pads.

 

“The Carat Café is right across the street and my stomach is about to eat itself. Let’s stop over there. I can grab us food, and you can grab yourself some coffee to brighten up those sleepy little eyes of yours,” suggests Seokmin as he begins to cross the street without warning, forcing Wonwoo to quicken his pace and catch up. This time, no complaints slip from his mouth, not because they’re slightly frozen, or because the running is heating his body up, it’s because he’s just a few steps closer to indoor heating.

 

Inside the café is the scent of gingerbread and roasted coffee beans; a large contrast from the dust fumes of the city just beyond the building’s doors. When waiting in line, Wonwoo finds his eyes lingering to his favorite corner. A tingling sensation warms his heart as he remembers his first outing with Seokmin. Maybe a little cake smashed into his face wasn’t his personal preference, but it was spontaneous and made him giggle. Having to smell carrot cake every time he took in a breath through his nose was not ideal, but it was simply a reminder that he probably wouldn’t ever become bored of someone as goofy as Seokmin. It’s enjoyable and somewhat nostalgic to be back in this café. Since their initial meet up, their visits have become less frequent, and they haven’t had another slice carrot cake. It’s simply just a coffee order here, or a cookie order there, followed by a quick leave. No more sitting down for hours talking about their favorite time of day, sunrise, or spending time in silence reading books, or afternoons spent studying together. Whatever it was that they seemed to have had here has since been lost.

 

“....she came out with a leash attached to her ankle and she doesn’t even own a dog!” Seokmin waves his hands in front of Wonwoo to grab his attention. “Earth to sleepy butt! Were you even listening to me?”

 

Snapping his gaze down to Seokmin’s he simply pretends his mind wasn’t wandering to unhappy thoughts and nods slowly. “I’d say it was a fashion statement piece for sure.”

 

“Okay but why would she buy a dog leash when she doesn’t even own a—”

 

“Good morning and welcome to the Carat Café, what can I get started for you?” The barista in front of him is different than the regulars Wonwoo is used to seeing. _Must be new_. He looks a couple of years younger, but is quite handsome. Highlighted hair, perfectly shaped eyebrows, and light brown eyes that compliment his skin nicely. If Wonwoo had seen him working more often, he would comment on it, but he remains quiet as Seokmin orders.

 

“Hi,” he greets with his usual large smile. “I’d like a small hot chocolate and a lemon poppyseed muffin. Mr. Emo over here will get a medium peppermint americano and a slice of carrot cake.” _Carrot cake this early in the morning? I swear if my stomach ends up hurting after this, I’m blaming you._

 

Wonwoo thanks him for paying and places a gentle kiss on his forehead while they wait for their orders. He’s not too sure why Seokmin is being so generous today, but he accepts it. It _was_ his idea for this adventure date in the first place. The silence between them is comfortable during their wait, and soon their orders are ready. Too soon. They had been in the café for around fifteen minutes and they're off to their destination.

 

Holding a coffee in one hand and his cake in the other, there's almost nowhere to place the warming pads. Those pads are the only items keeping him from turning into a popsicle. His coffee is hot, but not _that hot_. Knowing fully that he’s losing precious hand warmer time inside of his pockets, he grabs one out and places it underneath the palm holding his coffee. It’s enough to warm him slightly, but the backs of his hands are receiving a major chill.

 

“Pick up the pace slow poke, or we’ll have to wait another 20 minutes for the next train to come through,” Seokmin says as he grabs Wonwoo’s arm and pulls him quickly to the subway escalators. Suddenly they’re racing through the white tiled corridors while trying not to spill their drinks. On second thought, maybe stopping for hot drinks and food was a mistake since holding onto their items slows them down when pulling out their T-money cards. He voices his opinion but Seokmin simply waves it off with, “I don’t think you’d like an hour long subway ride without any substance in your body.” _An hour? Are you kidding me?_ Apparently he’s not because Wonwoo receives a ticket to Yongin and dies just a little bit inside. There can’t _possibly_ be anything great in Yongin.

 

\--------------------

 

During the beginning stages of the train ride, Wonwoo nods off. It’s for most of the ride to their destination, which proves his theory of him having had so much coffee that he’s built up an immunity to caffeine. A small yawn releases from his mouth as he lifts his head from Seokmin’s shoulder. His face feels hot and his neck is a little sore from being in the same position for so long, but his mood has bettered.

 

“Do you think aliens exist?” Asks Seokmin.

 

“There are infinite galaxies, so there are bound to be different life forms living in them. Why would we be the anomaly?”

 

“I think they’re real, too.” There’s a pause for a moment as if he’s trying to gather his thoughts. “I also think they’ve visited Earth. Do you think they’ve harvested human brains?”

 

“Why would they do that? We’re far less intelligent than they are. If they have the technology to come here from wherever galaxy they’re from, they’ve most likely been living longer on their planet, and they’re far more advanced than us. I also don’t believe they look like those slightly slimey, large eyed, no nosed, creatures they place in movies.” As a young boy, Wonwoo had placed glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling of his room. With the help of his mother, they stuck multiple constellations above, covering the entirety of the top of his room. On nights when he couldn’t sleep, he would spend his time thinking about the stars, about how every star had its own circle of planets, about how even though you see a star now, it could have already burnt out years ago. He never wanted them to burn out because the thought of having something you hold so closely to your heart, especially as a child, departing from you so suddenly only pulls pieces out, leaving a small hole where a bit of your heart used to lie. Then again, as a child, you become overly attached to every item you own, so he’d throw a fit and eventually get over it.

 

“You seem to know a lot about aliens for someone who’s never seen one”

 

“You’ve seen that movie about the people who live in Alaska where they have alien abductions, right?” He waits for Seokmin to respond, but the only sound is the speaker telling them that they’ve arrived. “I’ll take that as a no. It’s a horror movie where the people of the town are abducted by aliens, except they don’t really remember having been abducted by aliens. Their memories are replaced and switched around so they can’t recall what happens. So if I _were_ to be abducted, or if I _have_ been abducted, I wouldn’t even know about it.”

 

Seokmin lightly shoves Wonwoo’s shoulder while telling him about how ridiculous his theory is before interlocking their fingers and racing through the the train’s exit. They’d been traveling for so long, Wonwoo had almost forgotten that they were actually going to be back outside. While preparing himself for the worst, the escalator releases them into the winter air. Having since eaten, his outlook on the weather has changed. It could also be the fact that he’s had more time to sleep, or it could be the bundle of nerves eating at his stomach, heating his body with tension. Whatever the case, he finds entertainment in blowing out condensation puffs of air instead of usings it as a reminder of the freezing temperature. Each hand holds tightly onto a warming pack, and he’s ready to face the rest of the day.

 

“Any idea where we might be going now?” Seokmin looks up in anticipation.

 

“I’ve listed possible locations, but I highly doubt we’re going to where I think we are.”

 

Hearing this, Seokmin’s eyes change, there’s a glimmer of excitement behind them. “Your guess would be…?”

 

“Everland…?”

 

That classic smile of his lights up his face and crinkles the sides of Seokmin’s eyes.

 

“You did _not_ ,” says Wonwoo in disbelief.

 

“Oh, but I did.” At lightning speeds, Seokmin pulls two tickets from his wallet, presenting them to his boyfriend who stands in disbelief.

 

Wonwoo’s brown eyes light up with joy. “When I was young, I would ask to come here every year for my birthday. It’s been five years since I’ve last been.”

 

“I’m hoping this trip will be as wonderful as your childhood ones have been.” There’s a moment where he doesn’t speak with his mouth, but with his eyes. They seem thoughtful, careful, on the edge of bursting from multiple emotions. “Now let’s hurry up. I’m trying to ride T-express before the line gets crazy.” His hand pulls Wonwoo’s from his hand warmer and pulls the taller along until their pace matches step for step.

 

Large arcs with separating columns act as the entranceway to the park. It seemed so much larger when Wonwoo was younger, but now it’s slightly bland looking; the purple Everland sign above is small and underwhelming. Luckily, the entrance is nothing in comparison to the grandeur of the park’s interior. Cartoon-esque buildings surround the main walkway while cheerful music plays. Bright colors surround them as sweet smells bounce around the air. Inhaling and closing his eyes, Wonwoo’s reminded of his childhood. Days where he would spend hours revisiting Space Tour, mind boggled by the stars. Days where he could eat as much sugar as he wanted from all of the candy stores. Days where he would be fighting off tears because he didn’t want to leave such a wonderful place.

 

The couple swing their arms, hand in hand, as they walk toward Magic Land. Underneath their feet, the walkway changes from purple to blue. _America Land._ There’s always a hint of confusion when he enters America Land as to why they have a whole land, but they have the swinging pirate ship ride, so he’s never spoken up about it.

 

Halfway the their destination, Seokmin tilts his head upward and inhales through his nose. “You smell that?”

 

Wonwoo takes a moment to breathe in the familiar scene of fried dough, sugar, and cinnamon. “Churros.”

 

Stopping in their tracks they turn and look at each other before Wonwoo smiles and yells,“Last one to the churro cart is a stinky Seokmin!”

 

\--------------------

 

Twelve churros, a trip to Candy & Cookies, and four rides on the T-express later, Wonwoo is laying down on a bench at the Garden Terrace, not wanting to taste the twelve churros for a second time. His stomach sloshes around and his head can’t stop spinning. Resting on Seokmin’s thigh while having his hair stroked calms him down, keeping his mind off of his stomach. As least they are now able to rest. This “adventure” has been a non-stop walking day and Wonwoo’s feet are about to detach from his ankles. Sunset is nearly over as streaks of deep blue touch the mostly cloudy, grey, sky, as the garden lights create a glow on the petals of the flowers. Tips of the petals are covered in frost. The scene before him looks as if it could be scooped up and placed into a snowglobe. A moment like this is one Wonwoo would like to screenshot and place into a memory box, forever frozen in time. All of if feels too perfect to be real, as if at any moment someone’s going to shake him awake, pulling him from his happy dreams. Every time he closes his eyes as an attempt to convince himself that he’s sleeping, he feels hands rake through his hair, knowing that it’s all real.

 

“Now that it’s darker out, let’s go look at the fountain across the way in Cupid’s Gardens.” After this suggestion, Wonwoo heaves his body from it’s original position to a standing position, pulling Seokmin up with him.

 

It’s a silent walk. One where Wonwoo feel’s comfortable. One where he can spend his time admiring the floral arrangements in the different potting walls. One where he tightly squeezes Seokmin’s hand as a constant reminder that the memories made today will stick with him until he’s old and wrinkled. Flowers become sparse as they move from one garden to the next. This one is more based on hedgework and framing the centerpiece: the balcony fountain.

 

Both of Wonwoo’s legs are noodles, causing their trip up the stairs to be more difficult than anticipated, but somehow he makes it to the top with Seokmin. Blue lights illuminate the terrace as purple ones cast a cool-toned mask over the water. Tan skin reflects both lights on half of his face, turning him violet. Wonwoo giggles at the sight.

 

“What’s so funny?” Seokmin pouts, sticking out his plump bottom lip that Wonwoo now knows tastes like brown sugar and nutmeg.

 

“Oh it’s nothing,” says Wonwoo as he tries to contain his fit of stifled giggles. “It’s just that the lights make you look like Veruca Salt when she eats that gum. A big blueberry. Maybe that’s what I should call you.”

 

“Blueberry? I don’t think it suits me well. I’m more like a lemon drop.” _No. Only Mingyu can call me that._

 

“You don’t even smell like lemons! If we were basing this off scents, yours would be mid-afternoon musk.”

 

Seokmin opens his mouth and places his hand on his chest as if he’s offended by this comment. “Are you saying I smell like sweaty boy all of the time?” He crosses his arms. “I’ll have you know that I shower once a week now.”

 

They spend about a minute laughing at their horrible jokes that only they find funny. Most days he can’t find anyone to appreciate his sense of humor, but if he shares small jokes with Seokmin, he’s bound to get a laugh about seventy-four percent of the time. So maybe it’s not the highest percentage, but it’s better than the zero percent of his friends who think his jokes are genuinely funny. Together, they’ve spent so much time making puns and knock-knock jokes that their style of humor has almost merged into one. Countless nights have been spent laying on the floor, tears staining their cheeks, as they laugh into the morning. Finding someone like Seokmin is rare, and Wonwoo is quite aware of this fact as he admires the angles of his face. Long, delicate, slender fingers clasp gently in front of him as he leans across the balcony, eyes off in the distance, lost in thought.

 

What a most beautiful scene. His surroundings make Wonwoo’s stomach do flips as his heart beats faster and faster. Without having time to process his thoughts, he feels words escaping his lips,“I think I might be in l-”

 

“I think we should break up.”

 

 _No. No no no no,_ ** _please_** _no. This isn’t happening. This can’t be right. This must be my imagination._ All of the cold that had been forgotten, hits him in one punch, numbing his entire body. His vision is becoming blurry, but he tells himself it's his glasses and not the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He racks his brain and runs through every possibility, telling himself that this can't be correct. Maybe he heard the words incorrectly. Maybe he should ask for clarification. Maybe if he squeezes his eyes shut hard enough, he’ll wake up in his bed with Seokmin’s warm arms wrapped gently around his figure. Maybe this is all a prank. Yet here his is, standing in front of the boy he holds so fondly, the boy not able to make contact with his eyes. Here he is feeling his heart chip away by the second. Here he is, feeling the first snowfall of winter kissing the tip of his nose. Here he is, realizing the star that had been shining so brightly for him, had burnt out long ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
>  
> 
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	9. Please Save Me Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parties, Tears, and Sweaters?

**Friday 10:39pm**

 

Run. That’s all Wonwoo’s body is able to do. _Run._ That’s all his mind can think. Run from the pain. Run from the ache in his heart when thinking of Seokmin’s face. Run from the harsh reality hitting him like a ton of bricks. Run until he’s far away from the one who, moments ago, had hurt him so immensely. As he runs, he buries himself in his emotions, but all he wants is an escape. An escape from his mind. An escape from the wind constantly piercing his face. An escape from this amusement park that he once held such fond memories toward. He runs until blurry eyes obstruct his vision, stopping him from advancing into a deeper part of the park, so he stays put; tired and heaving, bent over and desperate for the warmth that has left him. Somewhere in front of him he hears a lion roar and he takes it as an indicator that he’s ended up in the back regions of Zoo Topia. Sweat begins to drip at the edges of his temples and yet his body is aching from the cold and he can’t put a stop to his chattering teeth. The fight to remain calm and rational has left his body, so with frozen fingers, he pulls out his phone and dials the first number he sees.

 

\--------------------

 

Friday nights are nothing special to Mingyu. A party here, a few drunken mistakes there, probably some throwing up during the moments he can’t remember. Most nights he’d pop random pills given to him by strangers in a poorly lit bathroom and eat more pot brownies than he could count, but those are the nights when he needs the drugs to keep himself numb, unattached, “happy”.

 

Tonight is no exception to his l Friday routine, other than the fact that he’s not drinking, doing drugs, or passing out in some stranger’s couch—so yes, actually it’s completely different than his normal regimine. Since he’s a slave to Jeonghan and Minghao, he’s their designated driver for the night. _So much for a good time._ His hair is parted, pushed back, and looks as if it has been styled by the gods themselves. Black jeans with a few tears down the front hug his slim legs, matching his black and white striped shirt well. It’s a casual look, but he knows he looks like a model in everything that he wears, so dressing a bit down isn’t a big deal. Out of sheer boredom, he plays with the sleeves of his shirt, pulling them over his palms and then pushing them up to his elbows. _Who would actually volunteer to not drink at a party? This shit is awful._

 

“You have _very_ nice arms, did you know that?” A female voice, as light as the sound of small wind chimes, pulls him from his thoughts. He doesn’t respond, just yanks his sleeves over his knuckles. “Such a shame. A handsome boy who doesn’t talk.” The girl pushes a strand of medium-brown hair behind her ear. There’s a tinge of pink to the ends that lightly brush against his shoulder as she leans in closer. Mingyu can detect hints of vanilla and strawberries coming from her locks and he can’t yet tell if he finds it little enjoyable or a little too sweet.

 

“It’s a little ill-mannered to not introduce yourself,” Mingyu speaks for the first time since he’s parted from Jeonghan and Minghao. “Especially if you’re trying to pursue me.”

 

A flush of pink highlights her already blushed cheeks as she looks away in embarrassment. “Oh, right. Sorry. My name’s Chungha.” She flashes a bright smile. Her cheeks are wide and Mingyu finds them to be quite cute; extremely pinchable like Soonyoung’s, but in a different way. So he reaches out with his left hand and pinches her right cheek.

 

“I’m Mingyu,” he introduces himself while flashing an award winning smile. Chungha rubs her cheek and simply nods, too entranced by Mingyu’s row of sharp, dazzling, teeth. “I’m also thirsty. Could you get me a drink?”

 

“Yeah,” she smiles and removes herself from the couch, “but non-alcoholic. I’m the DD tonight.”

 

Now that she’s standing, he can observe her height, or lack thereof, she must be about 20 centimeters shorter than him, if not more. As she walks, her hips swing gracefully and it’s quite obvious that she’s a dancer. _Well now I know she’s flexible._

 

Alone once more, Mingyu observes the room. People are broken up in groups, yet they all seem to crowd around the same areas. Some mass blobs of bodies stand around the kitchen, while others are in the living room or scattered along the staircase. Being sober at a party is a chance to realize how uneventful it really is. Most of the people are just standing and talking; drunkenly shouting at each other to hear over music. More times than not, they lean forward to listen and end up needing to place a hand on the other person’s shoulder for balance. There’s a little voice at the back of his mind reassuring Mingyu that there’s no way he could look so ridiculous at parties, but he’s never seen his drunken self from a sober point-of-view, so he eventually accepts that he looks just a idiotic as everyone else.

 

Although they may look ridiculous, most of them look happy. Genuine interest is apparent in their facial expressions and their eyes twinkle even in this dim lighting.

 

For the ninth time tonight, he wishes he was intoxicated.

 

On one end of the beer pong table that resides in the dining area are Minghao and Jeonghan attempting to defeat tonight’s champions: Jihoon and Seungcheol. By the looks of how little cups they have left of their side, their odds of winning are impeccably low. Jihoon’s short stature gives him an advantage since he’s closer to the cups, but there’s also the fact that he’s almost sober while Minghao’s practically tossing ping pong balls with his eyes closed. Judging by how sloppy their kisses are becoming, Mingyu figure’s that it won't be long until he’s dragging both of their barely conscious bodies out of the building and into his car. He sighs and focuses his attention back to his sleeves.

 

“Hey, I’m back, sorry it took me so long.” Chunga returns with a bright smile and a drink for Mingyu. She looks a little softer, and a little more flushed; the sides of her cheeks almost matching the tips of her hair. “My friends were in the kitchen and we took a couple shots. Remind me never to drink UV Blue again, it tastes like cough syrup.” Her face scrunches up in distaste as she finally seats herself on the couch, cross-legged, knees lightly touching Mingyu’s thigh.

 

Beforehand, Mingyu thought she couldn’t look any more petite, but now, folded up on the couch, she could be mistaken for a high schooler— apart from the tight cropped top and shorts so short he’s surprised she didn’t just come in her underwear, not that Mingyu’s complaining. “I don’t think I can drink anything after that since it killed my party hype. Well, at least I can be your non-alcoholic drinking buddy for the night.” As she smiles, her eyes curve into half moons that remind Mingyu of the night sky.

 

“Welcome to the No Fun club, we now have two members.” Raising the red plastic cup handed to him by Chungha, Mingyu hits the tip of his drink lightly with hers and brings the mystery liquid to his lips. After all of those college PSAs and information booths he’s seen about watching your drinks at parties, he should’ve thought twice before letting the sweet beverage slide into his system, but at least he’d be high if it were drugged. _Lemonade. Shit. I can’t get away from that lemondrop-smelling-deep-voice-awkward-glasses-wearing kid._ “You didn’t drug this did you?” Questions Mingyu as he raises an eyebrow.

 

“I didn’t, but I can if you’d like,” she reaches slender fingers into the front pocket of her of her incredibly well fit shorts and pulls out a small plastic baggie, contents unknown. There’s powder in it, white, but it doesn’t look like cocaine; too thick and grainy. “I have some molly that would mix well with our drinks. I know you’re a DD so I don’t know if you’d be down for it, but I know I’ve been contemplating pouring some in to lift my mood.”

 

Without hesitation, Mingyu holds out his drink and waits for Chungha to pour the remaining contents of the baggie into both of their cups. “Fuck it. Taxis were invented for a reason.” He twirls his finger in his Lemonde to mix the beverage and sucks what’s left dripping off of it into his mouth, making sure to keep eye-contact with Chungha while doing so. As expected, his bedroom eyes work wonders for the other party, as they usually do, for her lips part a bit and her eyes change from their normal childish gleam to excitement. “We down them on three okay?” Unable to speak, or take her eyes off of Mingyu’s entrancing stare, she only nobs, licking her lips. “One...two...three!” They lift back their heads and gulp down the contents in their cups.

 

The powder leaves a musty aftertaste that doesn’t mix well with the lemonade. “I wish didn't have tastebuds because that was a bitch to chug.” Mingyu lifts his hand from the backside of the couch and brings it down to Chungha’s thigh, tracing light pictures along her skin. It’s soft and pale with just a hint of melanin. He feels as though he’s touching clouds—perfectly moisturized, freshly shaven—and is so caught up in his own mind that he almost forgets he’s surrounded by hordes of people, refraining him from brushing his fingers elsewhere.

 

A giggle releases from Chungha’s lips, light and cheery, and she covers her mouth with her hand; shy, even though she initiated their skin-to-skin contact, intentional or not. This action causes Mingyu to pout a bit. He’s never grasped the concept of girls who cover their mouths when they smile or laugh, since a smile is one of life’s most treasured items. If he could box up all of the world’s most alluring smiles, including his own, he would place them in a safe and keep them tucked away for a rainy day. Yes, a strange concept to most, but he finds them comforting and heartwarming, so he reaches up and pulls Chungha’s hand away from her face. She instantly locks her fingers into the spaces between his own, making her hands look microscopic in comparison to Mingyu’s own. They untangle their fingers and place their palms against one another; her fingertips just reaching his middle knuckle.

 

Tarzan has never been Mingyu’s top Disney movie, but this is his go-to move when it comes to getting girls at parties.

 

“Wow!” Chungha exclaims. “Your hands are _so_ big!”

 

A smirk plays lightly on Mingyu’s mouth as he answers with, “That’s not the only body part I have that’s big,” and slowly inches lips toward the crook of her neck. This causes the smaller to shiver and goosebumps raise on her skin. In a low and hushed voice Mingyu continues, “My feet are big too.” Resting his head on Chungha’s shoulder, he releases a short spurt of laughter and receives a playful hit to the chest.

 

“This is why you can’t get any girls.” Another playful smack lands on Mingyu’s chest as he pretends to act offended.

 

“I’ll have you know that I get _plenty_ of girls.”

 

Rolling her eyes, not convinced in the slightest, Chungha asks, “Oh yeah? And how do you do that? Show them your ultra-rare pokemon collection?”

 

With a wink he replies, “Works like a charm. You wanna know what else works?”

 

“Please. Enlighten me.”

 

“Well, first,” he begins, “I lean in close,” and he does, lips skating across the edge of her ear. “Then I whisper sweet nothings to them; say stuff like they’re the most beautiful girl at the party, which you are, and that I haven’t seen anyone shine as brightly as them for quite some time.”

 

Which is a lie.

 

“...aaaaaand the final step?”

 

“Seal the deal.” Mingyu moves his head so that he’s looking into Chungha’s eyes once more, only he’s much closer than before. Not able to maintain eye contact with Mingyu, she focuses on his lips, less plump than her own, but far more kissable. Only a few centimeters separate their mouths, Mingyu’s breath is steady while Chungha’s is shallow and underlined with nerves.

 

_When I grow up, I wanna be famous, I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies._

 

“Oh shit. That’s my phone.” Without looking, he angrily takes out his cell and answers it. “This better be an emergency. If you’re not being attacked by zombies I don’t wanna hear i—”

 

“ _Mingyu._ ”

 

One word; two syllables.

 

In its entirety he can hear Wonwoo’s world shattering, his heart aching, his soul destroyed. With that word Mingyu goes slack, unable to speak, not knowing what to do. He’s never heard his name being called out for so desperately, so needed, so _wanted_.

 

“I don’t have anyone else to help me right now. _Please_.” There are soft whimpers on the other side of the line that pull at his heartstrings and make his stomach ache.

 

“Okay. _Okay_. Take a few deep breaths.” Not too sure if he’s saying this to calm himself, or the other party. “What happened? Where are you?”

 

The other side of the line is silent for a moment. “It’s Seokmin,” _Holy shit did he die?_ A wave of panic rushes through Mingyu’s veins until Wonwoo speaks again. “He broke up with me. I know I sound so _fucking_ stupid and emotional.” His words continue at a fast rate as he’s unable to control his emotions, “I’ve just never let anyone get so close and I got so attached and I didn’t know what to do and I wouldn’t have called you but I know Soonyoung’s out doing God knows what, God knows where, and I don’t have a lot of phone numbers in my phone so I just called you because you were the last person in my call log and I’m so sorry I just panicked and ran an—”

 

“Shhhh. Shhhh.” Mingyu attempts to calm the other, knowing his words would continue until Wonwoo worked himself into a panic attack, if he hasn’t already. “You didn’t answer my question. Where _are_ you?”

 

 _Please don’t be far._ **_Please_ ** _don’t be far._

 

“I’m at Everland.”

 

_Aaaaaannnd of course he’s far._

 

“I know it’s a bit of a d-distance, I just didn’t know who to contact. I’m s-so s-sorry. I just don’t want to be alone.” The sentence is choppy from Wonwoo’s ragged breathing, due to too many tears falling down his cheeks. If Mingyu had been called by anyone else, he wouldn’t go to such lengths to help them, but there’s something about the tone in Wonwoo’s voice that tells him they’re being truthful when saying that they don’t have anyone else. All his life, Mingyu has had someone by his side, and he can’t even imagine what it feels like to be so isolated, so afraid, so hurt.

 

“Fuck. Shit—um okay, I just,” running his hands through his tousled hair, Mingyu remembers the spiked drink he had shared around fifteen minutes ago and is now fully aware that he’ll be rolling by the time he reaches Wonwoo. _Shitshitshitshitshitshit._ “I just—okay I’m coming.”

 

\--------------------

 

“Look, he’s leaving. I knew we couldn’t trust him at a party,” Jeonghan slurs so it sounds more like an elongated mess of syllables with a whining undertone, but Minghao only pulls him upstairs by his collar, hunger in his intoxicated eyes, and drags him into the nearest empty bedroom.

 

\--------------------

 

While sitting on the nearly empty subway train, Mingyu’s mind races, and it’s not because of the drugs, which are taking longer to kick in than usual. He can’t stop thinking about what Chungha had said to him before he left.

 

_“It sounds like you really care for whoever that was.” Chungha's tone is light and filled with understanding._

 

_“I, uh, actually don’t know him very well. I mean we kissed one time,” and his lips taste like ripe honeydew, “but it wasn’t the right timing. It ended badly, and it was all my fault. It was a mess, I’m such a mess.”_

 

_“Oh.” It’s the only response he gets from her, but he doesn’t have time to explain himself._

 

_“Yeah I’m sorry, but I gotta go,” and with his half hearted apology toward the girl he had been planning on sleeping with, he collects his belongings and leaves the party._

 

His brain replays this scene over and over, as he tries to find an answer to why he’s going to such lengths to help someone he barely knows. Yes, he feels jittery and nervous when around the other. Yes, he felt the need to apologize for fucking up so badly in the beginning. Yes, it irks him that he can never make eye contact without his heart skipping a beat. And yes, there isn’t a day that goes by where he doesn’t think about the hurt in Wonwoo’s eyes he saw when he was pushed away after their kiss. If he hadn’t kissed back, Mingyu would’ve understood. It’s all big ball of confusion and his mind is spinning around in constant circles; a merry-go-round of thoughts and emotions that won’t quit chewing at his subconscious.

 

On this train he’s by himself, exhausted, with only his mind to keep him company, and suddenly he’s regretting his decision of leaving.

 

But he’s here now; waiting for the molly take hold of his brain, knowing the serotonin boost will also lift his oxytocin levels. Maybe it's not a good thing to rely on drugs to lift your spirits, and maybe it might come back to bite him in the ass when he finally reaches Wonwoo, but for now he just needs to escape his thoughts.

 

Chiming over the loudspeaker is a voice alerting the passengers that they’re arriving at their destination. Mingyu stands up, and that’s when it hits him. _Oh fuck, not right now._ At least it’s a slow climb to his peak, but for now he can barely feel his feet underneath him. It’s as if he’s replaced his legs with light feathers and he’s beginning to float. In most situations, this is what he aims for, the main goal: don’t feel anything at all. Now, he’s panicking a smidge; heart beating faster than the MDMA is causing it to pump.

 

A few jumbled messages between them consist only of their exchanging where to meet, since Everland is much past its closing time.

 

During the holidays, the tourist season is at its peak, causing the park to close at later hours, but even those hours have passed, and now they’re in the time frame of where clubs are bursting with sounds, and the shops have dimmed their lights for the night. Mingyu imagines how cold and isolated Wonwoo must feel; stuck inside a 24-hour convenience store with nothing to comfort him but a paper bowl of instant noodles and a side of kimchi. Who knows, maybe he’s a kimbap kind of person. It’s not like he knows Wonwoo well enough. He might not even like ramyeon at all. Whatever kind of person he is, he’s still alone, and he’s isolated, and Mingyu would do anything to help someone so vulnerable.

 

The train comes to a stop and Mingyu’s body sways with the natural motion. Back and forth, almost dropping his grip on the handle above before the exit doors open. There’s a struggle to concentrate on being aware of his surroundings, so he clenches his eyes shut, trying to keep his body and mind in focus. This isn’t a mind game though, he’s chemically altered his brain’s way of functioning and although he is trying, he’s only losing touch with his actual emotions, flying higher into a state of euphoria. _Not now._ **_Not now._ ** Before he loses himself completely, he dials Wonwoo’s number. As long and Wonwoo’s on the phone they’ll be able to find each other, right? Just a couple of rings pass through his phone’s speaker until the other picks up.

 

“Hello? Wonwoo?”

 

“Mingyu?” His voice still sounds weak and devoid of most of it’s light, causing Mingyu’s heart to sink a little, but not much since it’s almost physically impossible for him to feel upset when his dopamine levels are only climbing.

 

“Oh no you don’t sound happy. I’m sorry. You should be happy. Where are you I can make you feel happy.” Mingyu isn’t sure where to walk so he places himself on a bench nearby.

 

“A-re you okay? You don’t seem right… you seem a little off…”

 

 _Shit—okay, play it cool, he doesn’t know...yet._ “Don’t worry about me I am fine.” Truly, he is quite content with his eyes forming into crescents as he smiles to himself. “Anyway, it’s not about me. Are _you_ okay?”

 

“ _No,”_ Wonwoo speaks; voice cracking while doing so.

 

“Oh…” A pout imbeds itself onto Mingyu’s face. The boy on the other line sounds so desolate and shattered; devoid of much hope. “Where are you? I’m in the station! I can come and find you!” Mingyu finds himself getting excited to see the other, although it’s not too appropriate for the situation at hand.

 

“I’m in the corner store across from the south exit, I can come find you if it’s easier.”

 

It’s too late, for Mingyu is up and running, moving his body around the light crowding of people walking through the underground. There aren’t too many walking or waiting for their train to come, but it’s a struggle for Mingyu to constantly avoid the obstacles at hand, what with the long limbs he carries and his current mental state.

 

“No,” he responds, breathy, heavy, determined. “I’ll find you. Just give me a minute. I’m speeding over right now. I’m practically sonic.” A halfhearted chuckle tickles Mingyu’s ears from the other line, making his heart smile. He’s going fast, maybe a little too fast, and it’s becoming difficult to read the signs that direct him where to exit. His whole plan, or the lack thereof, to rescue Wonwoo is disorganized and thoughtless, but he’s coming across a large staircase and prays to God that it’s the right one. With blurry vision and energy that is decreasing in his system, he tries to take the stairs quickly but trips over his own feet, banging his left arm on cement in the process.

 

“Holy shit, are you okay?! It sounded like you fell!” For a few quick moments, Mingyu had forgotten that he’s still connected to his call. As for his slight tumble, if he could feel it, he’d wince in pain, but his body just feels _so_ _good_. It’s as if a million love bugs the size of dust particles were kissing every inch of his skin, warming him up. Nothing can change that, but he’ll feel it in the morning when pain shoots up from his elbow and through his shoulder after the drugs wear off.

 

“I’m fine,” he pants as he wearily climbs the last few stairs. “I’m almost outside. Leave the store so I can see you,” orders Mingyu right before he hangs up.

 

Once outside, Mingyu is greeted by the snow that has not yet made it to Seoul. Snowflakes kiss his nose and he smiles at the feeling, forgetting his mission. There’s a sudden urge he has to place his bare hands in the powder collecting by his feet. His skin feels _so warm_ , continuously burning. With only a knitted sweater pulled over his long-sleeved shirt he should be shivering. An outfit like his is not ideal for most, but his forehead is still glistening with sweat. Looking up at the falling flakes, he sticks out his tongue, and would spin around in childlike glee if it weren’t for a small voice calling his name.

 

“Mingyu?”

 

The taller snaps his head, suddenly remembering why he’d ridden a train here in the first place.

 

_Wonwoo._

 

Someone only a few centimeters shorter than Mingyu, looks so small and delicate. His head is down and his hair has fallen flat, now soaking in the snow. A beautiful sight, really, something an artist with an onslaught of overbearing emotions would stroke out until they’ve created the sullen masterpiece: Heartbroken and Forlorn.

 

Mingyu hurriedly makes his way to the other until they're standing in front of each other; breath coming out in small puffs as they stand in silence. The stillness between them is heavily threaded with the weight of unspoken emotion, both unable to meet each other’s glance. Indents become evident in the snow as tears lightly drop from Wonwoo’s chin. Mingyu wants to say something to comfort Wonwoo, he wants to whisper that everything will be okay in due time, but he’s rendered speechless.

 

“Thank you,” Wonwoo’s voice softly touches Mingyu’s emotions, “I-I’m just s-so, s-scared.”

 

More times than he’s proud of, Mingyu has turned to the use of drugs for a slight peak in happiness, or maybe just out of boredom, but when he’d asked about molly, he’d receive the same answers. _It’s literally impossible to feel bad when you’re rollin’ on MDMA dude, trust me it just can’t happen._

 

Yet here he is, heart bursting at the seams as he attempts to rack his fucked up state of a brain for some way to pick up the broken pieces Seokmin had left behind. Even though he might merely be some acquaintance-turned-almost friend, there’s something about the way his eyes glint when talking about books, or how he smells like citrus, but tastes like sweet melon. There’s just _something_ there.

 

So without any better options in mind, he pulls Wonwoo into his chest and squeezes him as tight as humanly possible.

 

One time, a few years back, his best friend was having a panic attack. Their breathing was unstable and inconsistent, scaring Mingyu into thinking the the poor kid was going to die right before his own eyes. The only action requested of him was to hold them; comfort until the storm passes and the seas calm.

 

Now, he waits, just as he has for those who’ve previously come to him for a gentle hand, for the raging waters inside of Wonwoo’s mind and heart, to calm. Hands squeeze and bunch into fists, pulling on the chest of Mingyu’s sweater as Wonwoo’s round glasses press away from his face at an awkward angle. Wet, nearly jet-black, hair sticks to Mingyu’s neck, for Wonwoo has buried his face there. “I’m so scared of dying alone.” Small, delicate whimpers and sobs slip through Wonwoo’s lips, breaking down the cool exterior of Mingyu’s emotions, and leaving him feeling raw. He runs his numb fingers through Wonwoo’s soaked locks and lightly tells him that, “Everything is going to be okay,” and, “Everyone has to deal with a break up,” and, “Just because you love someone doesn’t mean that they’re the only person you’ll ever love.”

 

With the mixture of snow, tears, and maybe a little bit of sob induced snot, Mingyu’s damp. Wonwoo’s dressed more for the below freezing temperatures than Mingyu himself is, and the terrifying thought of hypothermia hits him.

 

After a gentle caress of the back of his fingers on Wonwoo’s flushed cheek, Mingyu breaks his hold from the older.

 

“My body feels funny,” states Mingyu simply because it is, in fact, the truth. Temperatures are at war with each other, not sure if they should be melting his icicle fingers or constricting the blood flow to reserve energy. He’s light and airy and his head is a static mess. Balance, he needs balance, because now that he’s detached himself from Wonwoo’s solid figure, his knees have become feeble.

 

“Mingyu, are you okay?” Mingyu hears Wonwoo’s voice and can see his body, but everything’s either too dark or too light, so he squeezes his eyes shut to combat his current issue. “Mingyu, answer me!” Light taps of Wonwoo’s fingers dance across the other’s face, but Mingyu continues to close his eyes.

 

“The lights. I don’t like the lights out here. The snow is too cold and my body is too hot. I wanna go home. Can we go home?” He pouts and finally opens his eyes, which are now dangerously close to Wonwoo’s.

 

“Holy hell Mingyu, what did you _do_?!” Mingyu’s pupils are blown abnormally wide, leaving a sliver of a deep chocolate brown ring surrounding them. “Did someone drug you? Where were you before this. Oh my God we have to take you to a hospital.” Wonwoo rakes his fingers through his wet and tangled locks before pulling Mingyu down into the station to where it’s warmer.

 

“Stop it! You’re running too fast, my legs are gonna fall off.”

 

Just as suddenly as they had begun running, they stop, which causes Mingyu, who is trailing behind, to land chest first into Wonwoo’s back. Unfortunately for Wonwoo, Mingyu curls himself around the older’s shoulders, closing his eyes and nuzzling his nose deep into lemon scented skin.

 

“I feel like I’m melting. Can I call you Won _wow_ ? Because _wow_ , you’re so warm.” All comprehension of what had happened between them not 10 minutes ago is now lost. Mingyu is finally at his peak only moments after Wonwoo had reached his breaking point.

 

To his dismay, Mingyu feels Wonwoo shove him off. “Listen,” Wonwoo’s voice is sharp but still unsteady from his emotional state. “I’ve already had enough shit to deal with today so if you could just—” Tears threaten to burst once more at the corners of his beautifully shaped eyes.

 

“I’m sorry,” apologizes Mingyu as he stares at his feet, or what he thinks are his feet—at this point everything's a mess of blobs—in shame.

 

After releasing a sigh and composing himself, Wonwoo speaks again. “It’s fine. I’m just emotionally messed up right now, you know? Truly, I’m grateful that you came all the way here for me because even though you’re lost somewhere in euphorialand, you’re still here for _me._ That’s more than I could’ve asked for. Blindly calling you was a dumb decision, and you’re a fucking disaster right now, but I don’t regret it. You’ve given me some sort of comfort, and I’m still distraught and incredibly hurt, but thank you for what you’ve done.”

 

For the lack of a better response, Mingyu simply nods his head.

 

Once again, Mingyu feels himself being tugged along, lighter and slower than before, through the halls of the station. Fluorescent underground lights are too bright and bleak to mix well with what’s happening to Mingyu’s imbalanced chemicals.

 

“But don’t think you’re off the hook because we’re getting on the train soon.” Wonwoo swipes his card through twice and yanks Mingyu, who is blindly following, into the boarding area. “I still need to know what happened.”

 

Slight wind passes by them through the tunnel as the approaching train finds its way to a stop. Slowly, with the calm guidance and gentle touch of Wonwoo’s voice and hands, Mingyu successfully lands his bum on a train seat, motioning Wonwoo to sit next to him.  “C’mere my sad lil’ lemondrop who tastes like honeydew.”

 

There’s hesitation in the way Wonwoo looks at the younger, Mingyu’s not sure how to read his deadpan expression, but in all honesty, he can’t even read the large advertisements pasted on the train’s walls. Eventually Wonwoo does follow suit, sitting himself on the seat where Mingyu is lazily patting his hand. Their shoulders are touching and Mingyu can't help but feel energy surge through his whole body, and if he were in a sober mindset, which he obviously is not currently in, he would’ve restrained himself from resting his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder and resting a hand over the latter’s, which he doesn’t. So here they sit together awkwardly throughout the length of the ride, Wonwoo frozen stiff against the nearly limp Mingyu. Complete opposites morphed into a single sculpture.

 

\--------------------

 

**2:47am**

 

Lugging Mingyu up three flights of stairs would’ve been easier if Wonwoo had any type of muscle build up on his body, but unfortunately, it doesn’t matter how much protein he shovels into his mouth because he’ll still end up being a slightly tall and fairly skinny boy. He deems Mingyu to be lucky because while he has long and thin limbs, they’re still somewhat detailed with muscles. Combining his lack of strength with the emotional damage he’s had to deal with today, or tonight, or yesterday, or whatever time or day it is at this moment, he’s left feeling weak and barely able to move once they reach his floor.

 

“Hey buddy,” Wonwoo shakes Mingyu, who has been mumbling nothing but nonsense into his ear for the past hour and a half, as an attempt to sober the walking tree out of his drug induced state. It’s useless and he knows it, but it’s always worth a shot, right? “I don’t think I can help you up those last two flights of stairs. You think you got it?” Mingyu, unable to speak too much, nods his head lazily and places a foot in front of him. He’s sloppy and unbalanced and this worries Wonwoo that Mingyu will end up falling backward down the staircase and to his death. “Okay maybe not. C’mon let’s have you stay at my place for the night.” Wonwoo can see slight fear and shock mix in Mingyu’s facial expression. “No! Not like that! I just don’t have the energy to lug your wobbly body upstairs and I don’t trust you to do it on your own. So you’ll stay here with me.”

 

For the fifth time that night, Mingyu apologizes.

 

Thankfully most of Mingyu’s clothing is dry, and Wonwoo is not as worried as he had been about Mingyu’s body going into some state of shock. After jiggling the doorknob a few times, _we really need to get that fixed,_ they both successfully arrive into the heated confines of Wonwoo’s apartment. Feeling fatigued, famished and flustered, all Wonwoo wants to do is eat and sleep, but he has a feeling that he’ll have to leave the eating for tomorrow morning.

 

“Hey Wonwoozy, wuddup,” greets a scruffy-headed, slightly sweaty Soonyoung from around his bedroom hallway. “I have _company_ over but we’ve finished our business so you don’t have to wear earplu–,” Soonyoung’s eyes widen as he realizes that Wonwoo’s not alone, “What the hell happened to him? Oh my _God!_ He looks _really_ toasted.”

 

“And you look like you just had drunken sex with some random girl from a club, but we’re not here to state the obvious are we?” Wonwoo’s brows furrow in annoyance toward his roommate.

 

“Hi Soonyoung,” greets Mingyu with a toothy grin. “You look like you’re glowing right now. You’re like a portable sun. It also works out because you’re all sweaty and look really hot. Not the attractive hot, I mean I’m not saying you’re not attractive I’m just—you get me, right?”

 

“Yikes,” replies Soonyoung before he pats Wonwoo’s back in mock sympathy.

 

“We’re going back to my room now, so if you could just.” Wonwoo moves his hands in a shooing motion toward Soonyoung and he takes it as his cue to leave.

 

“Last time I checked, you were dating Seokmin.”

 

“Last time _I_ checked,” Wonwoo stops in front of his bedroom door, Mingyu clinging closely behind him, “Seokmin was scouted by an idol company and dropped my untalented ass.”

 

Silence.

 

“I’m—I’m sorry,” is the last response he hears from Soonyoung before pulling Mingyu into his room.

 

Before Wonwoo can rid himself of his thick padded jacket, Mingyu is sprawled across the navy bedspread. Although he’s not too sure how Mingyu navigated his way over to Wonwoo’s bed without running into the night stand, he’s not complaining because he’s not trying to break yet another lava lamp.

 

“You kept it.” Mingyu’s cheerful voice startles Wonwoo from his drowsy state and jolts his mind back to his task at hand: finding Mingyu clothes.

 

Not too many items in his drawers will fit except his favorite oversized sweater and maybe a pair of briefs. After about maybe ten seconds of contemplation, he figures this is as good as it is going to get and wads them up in his hands. “Kept what?” He questions while chucking the garments at Mingyu’s stomach. “Here. Change into those while I look the other way.”

 

“The glass bubble leaf holder,” Mingyu states, sounds like he’s struggling a bit with discarding his clothes.

 

“Do you mean the succulent terrarium?” Questions Wonwoo as he strips down to his briefs as well. If someone’s already seen him practically naked before, there’s not really a need to shy away—plus he read up on party drugs in one of his communication courses, so he knows Mingyu’s MDMA peak will continue for at least another hour, if not, more.

 

“Yeah. It’s pretty... like you.” This makes Wonwoo blush as he turns around and flicks off the light, hoping Mingyu hadn’t seen his face’s sudden change of color.

 

Slipping into the sheets, the weight of what he’d dealt with, within the past several hours, hits Wonwoo like a freight train, making his body feel swelteringly hot. He’s heavy and uncomfortable and can feel his breaths becoming unsteady. A million distressing thoughts bounce around Wonwoo’s mind, only increasing his already high levels of self doubt.

 

_What if no one will ever love me? What if I’m destined to be alone?_

 

His father had left, he had left his mother, Seokmin’s now gone, and maybe Soonyoung will leave him some day as well.

 

“Shhh...shhh…” Mingyu wraps his arm around Wonwoo, pulling him in against his chest. Their  heartbeats are scattered, for Wonwoo’s is rapid while Mingyu’s is tenderly beating, and Wonwoo hadn’t realized that his ragged breathing and burning tears were causing such a commotion.

  
Small and delicate circles are being traced on his stomach by Mingyu’s lightly calloused fingers, and Wonwoo finds comfort in the repetitive touches. Somehow it calms his breathing and relaxes his muscles until sleep lulls over his body, causing him to almost forget the pain hardset in his chest. _Almost_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow what a chapter. It took me almost 3 weeks to write 2k words and then one days to basically write 4k. What a disaster. Anyways, MEANIE HAS BARGED IN THE DOOR. 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed the read~
> 
> [ Tumblr ](http://rimjob-queen.tumblr.com) / [ Twitter ](https://twitter.com/HoForHobi)


	10. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning this chapter is a bit non-linear but I hope you get what's happening.

**Saturday**

 

Sunlight glistens across a field of frosted grass. It’s that beautiful color in the early morning where the blades look like snow dusted lightly atop pine needles, reminding Wonwoo of cheerful Christmas mornings. He’s never had a white Christmas, but he still holds onto his hopes of there one day being snow dusting atop his windowsill as he opens his eyes on December 25th.

 

As he walks through the empty mass of ice-tipped green, the wind begins to pick up and prick his exposed skin. The frozen air has no effect on the pace he keeps as he tries to find someone, _anyone_ , out on this deserted plain.

 

What seems like hours pass as he trudges through the dusted ground, yet the sun doesn’t move from its position behind the clouds. Although he cannot tell whether he is headed North or South, he has kept his sights forward, telling himself that he’ll see a new set of scenery soon, and that the clouds will break, but it’s of no use. No one can be seen for as far as his eyes can reach; only a, once beautiful, now dull, plain of frostbitten and dying grass fills his vision. He wants to give up, he feels the weight of defeat pushing down on his mind as his feet crunch the frost beneath him, but he can’t give up so easily.

 

So he roams.

 

Roams until he can’t feel the stinging in his toes. Roams until the sun struggles to keep the last shimmer of light shining across the surface. Roams until his balance fails him and his body makes hard contact with the ground with no attempt to stop the sudden impact. It’s not because he couldn’t stop the heavy crash, because he could if he had wanted to, but his will to continue has been completely diminished and biting cold’s effect has long since been gone. All of this time has ticked away, and all he has done is wander around desperately, calling out any name who could possibly be looking for him, anyone who could lead him back home, but they never appear. Maybe no one is looking for him because who would really miss him if he’s disappeared?

 

He finally collapses.

 

Now he lays almost still while his body trembles in the wet grass. The source of his trembling is unknown until he reaches up to his face only to feel his fingers dampen from tears that infinitely fall. No matter how desperately he tries to stop himself from sobbing, he continues his cries that of which are consumed by the emptiness eating at the pit of his stomach because in the end of it all that’s all he feels: empty. There’s no amount of tears that can fill the void vibrating through his every crack and crevice. So instead, the tears continue to release from the corners of his almond-shaped eyes until he’s run out of moisture. Until he’s only hiccuping between whimpering calls for help. Until he closes his eyes, exhausted and devoid of any hope left that someone is out there searching for him.

 

_Who could ever love a train-wreck like me?_

 

\--------------------

 

Shaking.

 

The world is shaking. Wonwoo’s body is shaking. He’s crumbling apart with every jerking action of his body, and yet he lets it continue until he can no longer resist the urge to open his eyes—eyes the meet a pair of dark, concerned, beautiful ones staring down at him. Mingyu’s irises are no longer stretched thin with blown pupils, but sit in their normal, less dilated state, acclimated to the midmorning light.

 

One look. That’s all Wonwoo needs for his weakened exterior to crumble, and just like he had been in his dream, he curls in on himself and releases his emotions, his sadness, his fear of never being loved, but this time, someone’s here for him.

 

A warm finger swipes across his face.

 

Mingyu looks down at the tear he had brushed off of Wonwoo’s face and pouts but doesn’t speak. He doesn’t protest when Wonwoo pulls on the sweater Mingyu had borrowed for the night, nor does he utter a word when he curls in close, tears soaking through the soft, knitted fabric covering his upper body, but Wonwoo’s okay with silence.

 

Silence can be healing when it seems as though the world is crashing through his front door, leaving a mess of harmful thoughts and stress sprawled out in front of him. It’s okay that they wake up almost exactly as they had fallen asleep—minus Mingyu being under the influence of drugs—with Wonwoo releasing his emotions, and Mingyu softly rubbing circles on his back; soft words of comfort falling from the younger’s lips.

 

How strange it can be, to think of someone as wretched and greasy, only to find out they have a cotton candy like interior; sticky sweet. Wonwoo can’t help but compare his own feelings to that of the fluffy dessert. Cotton candy looks as though it could be a solid substance, but when in contact with water, it quickly disintegrates to nothing but goo.

 

Wonwoo stays eerily still long after the last of his tears fall from his eyes; waiting for his breathing to return to the steady rhythm to which it’s accustomed. With eyes still closed, he returns to lying on his back, where he’s most comfortable.

 

“You were crying in your sleep, you know.” Mingyu talks while tracing the constellations he’s memorized on the eggshell paint of Wonwoo’s ceiling. “That’s why I tried waking you up. I didn’t want you to cry. But I guess I couldn’t stop you since you’d already started.” He stops tracing Cassiopeia after his third time around and faces Wonwoo—whose head is tilted slightly to the right, and whose eyes remain closed.  “It’s not that you’re ugly when you cry, but it doesn’t suit your face well.” Wonwoo’s expression scrunches in distaste at that.

 

“I’m not too positive that crying suits anyone’s face well.” He finally opens his eyes, but avoids eye contact with Mingyu, suddenly finding the dirt underneath his thumbnail troublesome, and begins to pick at it. “If you were to start crying, I don’t think you’d look too handsome either.” Looking up at Mingyu, Wonwoo finds his complexion to be virtually flawless, and he also finds himself aware of how close the flawless, golden-skinned, boy is to him in his bed. In comparison, he knows he most likely looks like a mess; snot wiped across the back of his palms while his are eyes rimmed red and puffy. What a wreck. “So, uh, I should be getting ready and you should probably go home since you’re no longer a drugged up mess.”

 

As Wonwoo sits up, Mingyu closes his eyes, relaxing with no intent on leaving the bed any time soon. “What are your plans for today? Sounds like you’re busy.”

 

“Not too busy. I need to buy groceries since Soonyoung likes to inhale every edible item in this sight. We run low on supplies after three days, no joke.” Gathering up the blanket to cover his exposed skin, Wonwoo hops off the bed, comforter cape and all, and heads to the bathroom. There’s something about wrapping himself tightly that helps him hold himself together for a bit longer. “I also have work at 4:30. If that matters.”

 

“I can help you shop if you want. It seems like you could use an extra hand when carrying groceries,” suggests Mingyu as he props himself up on his elbows, only to wince in pain from last night’s fall.

 

As much as Wonwoo would like to be alone today, he thinks better of it and decides to accept Mingyu’s offer. “I still need to shower, and you still need to get out of my clothes. So… meet up by my car in 20 minutes?”

 

“Sounds good,” replies Mingyu as he plops his head back down onto Wonwoo’s feather filled pillow.

 

With a sigh, Wonwoo turns his body, steps into the bathroom, closes the door behind him, and trusts that Mingyu will eventually get up and get ready before he’s out of the shower.

 

\--------------------

 

“C’mon Miso! It’s time for a walk!”

 

Small ears perk up when Wonwoo’s squish-faced puppy hears the word ‘walk’. Her small legs lift her excited body from it’s napping position as she quickly bounds happily toward her owner. Wonwoo places a small and slightly chubby hand down onto the top of Miso’s head, giving it a few soft pats, attempting to transfer all of his love into her petite frame. She moves her head and laps her tongue happily across Wonwoo’s palm, causing him to giggle with delight.

 

When he had gone to the local pet adoption center, his mom let him wander from dog to dog. They all seemed nice, some fluffy, some scruffy, all cute in their own little way, even if his mom had voiced otherwise, but he hadn’t felt a connection.

 

In the far left corner of the room, a small dog with a nose that was all-too-flat on it’s face, stood wagging its curled up tail, delighted to see a new face in the facility. There was no need for him to ask a worker to open the gate so he could play with them, he had known that she would be his the moment his deep brown eyes met the nearly black ones of the Pekingese.

 

He lies on the ground, forgetting for a moment, too wrapped up in the puppy kisses given to him by Miso, that they’re supposed to go on a walk. Once Miso suddenly stops her onslaught of licks and begins whining, Wonwoo takes it as a hint that they should probably go on their walk. Lugging himself up from the hardwood floor, he races toward the front door thoughtlessly in an impatient attempt for them to start their walk, but then realizes it’d be better to walk her with a leash instead of having to chase her around all afternoon.  

 

“Okay Miso, stay,” warns Wonwoo with outstretched palms, motioning for her to stay put. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Inside their hallway closet, there is a small section on the righthand side of the bottom shelf where all of the dog’s extra toys, treats, and shampoos are held, along with other pet doo-dads and the like. A few days had passed since their last walk, and he distinctly remembers lazily tossing the lead toward this general area, but he pats around and can’t seem to find it. Once on his hands and knees, he sets his sights on the bottom portion on the closet, patting around until his small and delicate fingers grip tightly around the forest green leash.

 

“Miso! Are you ready for your walk?!” The usual response would be the sound of light tapping caused by her excited paws bouncing about on the hardwood, but he only receives silence.

 

“Miso?! Are you ready?!” Nothing. Not a small bark, nor that funny noise when she breathes in too hard and her nose clogs.

 

Whenever she would snort, Wonwoo would scrunch up his nose and ask how his little piggy is doing, but now his little piggy is playing hide and seek. A small breeze flows through the entryway causing him to realize that he’d been wrong to leave the door open because now his little piggy had gone to the market, only to have left without anyone to help her get there.

 

Sporting a pair of navy sneakers, he bolts out of his house, panicking, with eyes peeled wide for his most prized possession.

 

He returns home to his mother, empty handed, with dirty tear streaks stuck to the sides of his face. “What am I gonna do without her mommy? She’s my special buddy! We’re supposed to be together forever.”

 

“We can get another one, don’t worry, they’ll love you even more than the last,” Wonwoo’s mother reassures her son while he cries softly into her chest.

 

“But Miso loved me! She loved me! I know it!” More tears fly from the young child’s eyes and slide down his chin, dripping heavily on the hot sidewalk. For the entirety of that morning his small feet carried him through the neighbourhood and around it twice more, in hopes that his best friend, his partner in crime, his beautiful Pekingese play pal, would be somewhere in plain sight, waiting for him.

 

But it was all his fault.

 

It’s always his fault.

 

He’d forgotten to attach her leash before opening the door. He’d been so careless. He’d thought she was trained enough not to bolt, but there he stood while he watched her leave. She ran away, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. So he stands on the pavement, six years of age, experiencing his first loss.

 

\--------------------

 

“Now that we’re here, what’s your plan?” Asks Mingyu while pushing the grocery cart toward the kimbap section of their local E Mart.

 

“Soonyoung likes quick and easy; something he can throw together without having to cook. He’s not the _best_ cook, still better than I am, but he’d rather not waste his energy,” replies Wonwoo. His fingers dance across the ingredients until he finds the ones that both Soonyoung and he enjoy: seaweed, diced carrots, diced cucumbers, danmuji, and cooked, refrigerated bulgogi. Having an entire back wall dedicated to kimbap ingredients definitely takes the hassle out of searching the produce, meat, and other various isles until they found every item they needed. Of course, he wouldn’t even need to go through this much of a hassle to buy these products so often if he wasn’t a poor university student, but buying in bulk is expensive. Tough times call for (not too desperate) measures.

 

Mingyu picks up a sealed container of imitation crab and flips it around in his hands. “Why don’t you add this to the pile of kimbap ecstasy we have going on in our cart?”

 

Wonwoo cringes at Mingyu and his use of the word ecstasy to describe kimbap, but shakes it off quickly. “I’m allergic to seafood. Honestly, I don’t think I’m missing out on anything special.”

 

“You, my friend,” Mingyu places his hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder, looking into his eyes with every ounce of seriousness he can muster up, “were born in the wrong country.”

 

“No. I was definitely born in the right country,” Wonwoo replies while shrugging Mingyu’s hand off of his right shoulder. “But Soonyoung likes this disgusting fake crab goop, so just toss it into the cart.”

 

“Wait.” Halfway through the instant noodles isle, Mingyu halts. “If you’re allergic to seafood, why do you eat kimbap? It has seaweed.”

 

After only having spent around forty minutes with Mingyu, Wonwoo is already regretting accepting Mingyu’s offer of an extra hand. “Seaweed doesn’t have fish proteins in it, you know, since it’s a plant and all.”

 

Mingyu remains silent as he processes this new information, and to also refrain himself from saying anything without thinking again—at least for the time being. The only sound that can be heard between the two is a small squeak of the cart’s wheels as they inch forward.

 

Each shelf is sectioned off by different ramyeon brands and flavors. They pass by seafood quickly, but that doesn’t stop Mingyu from sneaking in a few shrimp flavored packages when Wonwoo’s focus remains elsewhere. Just because Wonwoo’s allergic to seafood doesn’t mean that his roommate should have to suffer a seafoodless life. Tragic.

 

Wonwoo can feel his steps becoming heavier as the silence between them grows. He knows as long as they’re talking, he’ll be distracted, and a distraction is all he ever needs from the aching that resides deep in his chest. In his eyes, it’s better to be distracted than to deal with your issues at hand, so he distracts himself by studying Mingyu as the taller, much more stylish and cool, boy stares intently at the Samyang Fire Noodles. Mingyu’s winter wear could probably stomp all over his with the force of an elephant’s foot. A striped long sleeve shirt tucked into well-fitting jeans is simple enough, but it can’t bare well with the temperatures outside. What pulls the outfit together is the oversized deep tan double coat he has hanging suavely around his frame. On the back, a vintage type photo is stitched where large letters spell out the words ‘Ping Pong’. As he always does, Mingyu looks like a model, dresses like a model, and smells like what he’d imagine all models smell; earthy with a hint of spice. _Maybe he models on the side? Is that how he can wear a new outfit every time I see him?_ Wonwoo shrugs it off, but in the back of his mind he believes his theory to be true.

 

Glancing down at his own outfit, he realizes that he’s the complete opposite of Mingyu. Underneath his oversized crewneck sweater is a plain long-sleeved shirt; layering for heat purposes, or else he would have been just wearing the crewneck. The crewneck is black, or _was_ black until his dishwashing incident from last winter. Washing dishes isn’t the worst station to be at, other than the constant dry hands and prune fingers, but he is always too careless with the bleach. Now, his overused sweater is splattered with bleach stains on the front, but it gives it character. With athletic sweats that cause his legs to look thinner than he’d like, and a pair of beat up trainers, Wonwoo looks comfortable, but careless about his appearance. Add the mop of messy hair tucked inside of a woolen burgundy beanie, heavyset bags and dark circles under his eyes, and he’s become the poster child for ‘post breakup college student’.

 

“Do you wanna do the Fire Noodle Challenge?” A deep voice snaps him out of his moment of self pity and back into the fluorescent lighting of the grocery store. “I’m pretty good with spicy. Should we make it a competition?”

 

“Well considering that I’m absolute shit with spicy, you should probably find someone else.” As Wonwoo replies, Mingyu tosses two packages of the Fire Noodles into the cart. “No no no,” protests Wonwoo. “Those are _not_ going in my cart. Put them back on the shelf.”

 

Mingyu’s eyes soften and collect a sheen of water along his tear ducts. From straight sex to complete puppy in .5 seconds, this kid is amazing, really. “Pleeeeease. I’ll go against Soonyoung if I have to,” begs Mingyu as he begins to tug at Wonwoo’s sleeve.

 

“Hey knock it off!” Demands Wonwoo as he swats away Mingyu’s hands from his arm. “This is my favorite sweater!”

 

“Oh come on. It’s not like I’m gonna ruin it,” Mingyu replies while giving Wonwoo a quick once over. “Looks like you did that already.”

 

All of Wonwoo’s energy has been drained from his body and he’s starting to feel like he’ll collapse before they finish shopping, so he runs his hands through his hair and sighs in defeat. “Okay fine. You can put them in the cart...for now. But you’re paying for them when we check out.”

 

He doesn’t.

 

\--------------------

 

Freshly cut grass surrounds Wonwoo as he remains sprawled across his family picnic blanket. Sunlight kisses each exposed area of his skin, whispering sweet words that sing him in and out of sleep. These are the summer days every child impatiently waits for impatiently waits for after spring has sprung, but classes have yet to end; their fingers restless and their feet shuffling on the carpet below. Each day seems to rush by faster than the next until the school year has begun and each child is left confused as to how it all passed in a blur.

 

Around the beginning of July, when the August heat has not yet come to bare it’s fiery torch down on it’s unwilling victims and the back-to-school commercials remain vacant on the television, is the time where families pack up their umbrellas, tupperware, and blankets and head to the nearest park. It’s as if the weather decides to be decent for once and allows the bright sun to pierce through the constant overcast. Everything seems to be as it should; with mute swans ducking their bills into the large pond water, and babies giggling as their parents blow raspberries into their chubby little cheeks.

 

Is there anything more beautiful than sounds of a child’s laughter?

 

“Here comes the swooping side attack!” Large hands strike the soft skin of Wonwoo’s sides, causing him to squirm in a fit of giggles and tears. As he rolls around in an attempt to escape from his father’s incessant tickling, he scrunches the blanket under his body until all of their tupperware is scattered across the vibrant grass. “Look what you’ve done,” his father halts his tickle attacks and observes their area. “You’ve made a mess.”

 

“It’s not _my_ fault that _you_ started tickling _me._ ” At the ripe age of 9—if anyone asks, he’ll say 9 and eleven-twelves—he’s almost too old for tickle attacks, or so he says, but every time they happen, a smile still spreads across his face, causing his nose to crinkle just like his father’s.

 

“Fair enough,” his father replies while straightening their picnic area up from it’s previous state of disarray. The thin yellow cloth contrasts warmly against the cool tones of the earth below, placing the two in their own bubble of sunshine. Their food may be spread around across the green surrounding them them, but there are plenty of restaurants and convenience stores in the general area, so a what’s few lost banchan from a tickle fight? For the time being all they need to do is lie down, arms resting under the backs of their heads, while they create magical tales from the spotted cumulus clouds.

 

Under the shade of the umbrella, the humid summer air is bearable, and the breeze rolling through ruffles Wonwoo’s dark hair as he closes his eyes. “Dad?”

 

“Son?” Although his eyes are shut, Wonwoo can feel his father’s smile radiate with his response.

 

“Do you believe in happily ever after?” In all the tales he’s been told, the protagonist and their love interest struggle through tragedies and hardships, but in the end they will always have a happy ending because they had believed that love conquers all. All he’s ever known is reading books cover to cover that end with nothing more than a true love’s kiss, or a safe return home from a daring adventure. So to Wonwoo, life should be similar in the likes of how a novel ends. “Do you think love can do anything?”

 

Soft laughter escapes from his father’s lips for a short period before Wonwoo receives and answer. “Well,” he pauses as he collects his thoughts, “Your mother and I met each other years before you were born, and look at our beautiful little family. My heart has grown so full with happiness that I’m surprised it doesn’t show through my chest. So, yes, I do believe with your mother, and of course my wonderful offspring, I will be able to live happily ever after.” Another long pause settles between father and son as the sunlight dances across their golden skin where the shade of their umbrella doesn’t quite cover. “As for your second question, I think love is complicated. Love can’t cure illnesses, or bring someone back from the dead, but love can help you heal; break away from the grief and pull you into the warmth of happiness after tragedy strikes. The sun will eventually break through the clouds once the storm has passed.”

 

It’s a wonderful way to help a curious child seeking knowledge learn how to cope with loss, but then again, his father always has a way with words; creating something soft, yet delicate and beautiful when he speaks.

 

Wonwoo feels movement beside him as his father sits up quickly, rubbing his hands together. “Alright! Now let’s stop being bums for a moment and play some catch!”

 

Packed away in their picnic bag are two heavily worn down baseball gloves and a nearly brown baseball. What was once beautiful bright red stitching is now frayed and faded from excessive use. Hours upon hours have been spent with them out on the grass, in the rain, on the light snow powder, as they toss their one and only baseball back and forth. Wonwoo has never been much of a sports fan, but there’s something about the joy that emits from his father’s eyes when they’re out in the moment as they toss the beat up ball back and forth. Of course not every ball is going to be caught, but that’s half of the fun because as time goes on, the tosses become more challenging to catch and it suddenly becomes a competition based on who can throw the farthest catch and who can catch the farthest throw.

 

“Go long!” Shouts Wonwoo as he quickly lines up his target. He pitches the ball back a bit and then, with all of the force in his small frame, pitches it forward toward where he thinks his father will be by the time the ball reaches him.

 

It never does.

 

A resting mallard is placed comfortably on a bed of grass near the park’s large pond. A resting mallard that Wonwoo’s father does not see, for he is so wrapped up in catching the farthest toss that Wonwoo’s ever accomplished to be aware of any of his surroundings. A resting mallard that causes Wonwoo’s father to trip, slamming the side of his head brutally into one of the manmade stone circles meant to form a pathway across the water.

 

These events are happening in front of Wonwoo’s eyes and because he threw the ball too far, he’s too far away to stop his father from falling. Maybe if his father had fallen into the pond in a different manner, the situation would be rather humorous, but he’s taken quite a blow to his head, knocking himself unconscious as he sinks into the water, face first. All Wonwoo can do is run, tears threatening to fall from his eyes, a heart full of fear, and try to get to his father before the situation worsens, but he’s not yet strong enough to carry his father out of the water. By using all of his strength and adrenaline, Wonwoo is able to pull his father’s head out of the water that has begun to tint itself dark with blood.

 

“Somebody please help me! My dad is really hurt!” His way to contact emergency services has been destroyed from when his father had fallen into the water, drowning his cellphone during the process. At his age, he hasn’t had any training on now how to check for vitals or any signs of downing, so he does what he can by calling out for help while hovering over his father’s limp figure. “Please. Daddy _please_ wake up.” Tears cascade down his face, dripping onto the bloodstained grass. Adults rush forward, assisting Wonwoo with pulling his father further out of the water, informing him that they’ve notified the police station, and that help is on their way. Their words are all washed away by his emotions as he continuously begs for his father to wake up. “I’m s-so sorry.” Words of apology flood through his mouth because this situation is his fault entirely. He had thrown the ball, he had pitched it too hard, and his father followed the toss willingly; blindly. Look where it got him.

 

The wail of the ambulance pierces through the invisible bubble he had created around himself, only leaving him in a bigger fit of confusion and stress. EMTs gather around him as they quickly ask questions about what happened while Wonwoo replies rapidly through his sobs. Minutes pass and words spill out of the EMTs’ mouths, “His vitals are too low,” and, “We need to transfer him to a hospital immediately.” All too quickly, Wonwoo is being dragged from his father’s motionless body and into the back of the ambulance where he clings tightly to unresponsive hands.

 

Pronounced dead before the ambulance reached the hospital in front of his son; the most heart wrenching tragedy to strike a family.

 

Wonwoo’s largest loss is now one he blames himself for.

 

\--------------------

 

Snow falls in large flakes, looking like soft cotton balls resting lightly atop Wonwoo’s thick beanie. Large buildings line the grey and heavy sky as they begin to collect a layer of white on each protruding surface. Both Mingyu and Wonwoo walk quickly with their hands gripped tightly around plastic bags that are threatening to rip. Although the wind is not as harsh as the day before, the swift kisses of the falling snow instantly freeze any exposed surface it touches. On most winter days, the city hustle does not stop, but today it seems as if most people decided to sleep in a little later and avoid the first snow day of the year. With more traffic on the road, there are bound to be more car wrecks, so they might as well just avoid the situation by calling in sick. For the past few minutes it has just been the two of them, maybe a few others passing in the other direction without making eye contact, but if Wonwoo were to look back in this moment, he would see just two sets of footprints left behind—well, maybe a few indents on either side from where their frozen fingers needed to seek temporary refuge from the snow.

 

“I hope my mom puts booties Puddles today,” Mingyu says with concern, breaking the silence. “She’ll freeze her little paws off if she doesn’t wear them.”

 

“Puddles?”

 

“Yeah, I have the cutest little puppy back home,” _Of course the puppy has a puppy himself._ “She’s actually a few years old, but I call all dogs puppies because they look so cute.” He shrugs it off and continues to struggle with the plastic bags. “Do you have a puppy?”

 

“No,” Wonwoo replies quietly, eyes narrowed, trying to avoid any further interrogation.

 

“Awh, why not? Do you like cats more?” Asks Mingyu, who seems to be completely unaware of how uncomfortable Wonwoo is feeling with his constant questions. They never seem to end. Mingyu’s always firing question after question _after question._ It’s becoming too tiring for Wonwoo be around Mingyu much longer.

 

Quickly Wonwoo replies with, “Something happened when I was a kid, but I don’t want to get into it right now.”

 

“Oh,” Mingyu’s shoulders slump a bit with Wonwoo’s unenthusiastic answer, but doesn’t give up, he’s not the type. “Maybe some other time?”

 

“Yeah, maybe.”

 

Only a few extra words exchange from one boy to the other, more coming from Mingyu’s mouth than Wonwoo’s, but that’s how it always seems to be.

 

How can he be like this? His emotions so scattered and so open to receiving comfort and care when so vulnerable, only to shut oneself off after a couple of hours. After all of these years of keeping himself guarded from others, he’s crumbling at the core. He just needs a few days to sort himself out, pick up the pieces, and keep people at a distance. Obviously there are exceptions, but very little seeing as he only holds two people closely to his heart: his mother and Soonyoung. It’s not as if he had asked Soonyoung to become an important part of his life, the enthusiastic and always-smiling boy had shoved his way into Wonwoo’s heart without warning.

 

 _Soonyoung._ Wonwoo’s thoughts lead him down a path of regret as he remembers how harshly he had spoken to Soonyoung the night before. Club hook-ups happen, and he hadn’t known about the break-up, so why had Wonwoo been so harsh? Maybe he can blame it on being stressed, flustered, or heart-broken, but he knows it’s all bullshit. This entire situation is bullshit and it’s leaving him empty and disposable like a juice box that’s been crushed until every last drop is sucked through a bendy straw.

 

“Here, let me grab one of those bags from you, you’re starting to slow down.” Before Wonwoo can protest and tell Mingyu that his mind is just a little cramped with emotions—who is he kidding, he’d probably never admit his My Chemical Romance level of emo feelings to the kid, only make up some half-hearted excuse to avoid what’s angrily eating at his insides—the plastic bags pulling at the palms of his hands are quickly tugged away. “Okay, wow, these _are_ pretty heavy,” states Mingyu with a grunt. In all honesty, they aren’t too heavy, but adding two bags to the four he had already been struggling to carry probably isn’t the easiest to do—especially when none of the plastic is double-bagged.

 

With arms held out wide from his sides, motion for his legs and body becomes limited, and the sight leaves a ghost of a smile touching the corners of Wonwoo’s lips. “You look like a penguin carrying those, you know that, right?”

 

Mingyu puffs out his broad chest and makes wider waddle movements in the snow, wild penguin noises, or what he thinks are penguin noises, but come out as large angry squawks, erupt from his mouth; it is truly a sight to behold. The few people who are crazy enough to be out in the storm with them have now stopped to stare at the performance Mingyu is putting on.

 

Before long, the clumsy buffoon slips on a particularly icy patch of snow, sending his feet scattering in an attempt to save himself from falling. Making more movements is usually less ideal when it comes to trying not to crash in winter weather, but it seems that Mingyu has never been schooled on such an issue and slams directly into Wonwoo’s left shoulder. This sends them dropping their groceries into the snow, products scattering everywhere while their bodies hit the snow-covered sidewalk.

 

A loud burst of laughter releases from Mingyu, his cheek is sideways in the snow, probably freezing his body to the core. If Wonwoo had not been becoming accustomed to the strange antics of this tall and tanned boy, Mingyu would look like a lunatic. Even though they haven’t spent an especially long time in each other’s presence, Wonwoo’s starting to understand that Mingyu may not be all that he seems.

 

When he first saw Mingyu outside of his apartment door, he had been _so_ intrigued by the bad-boy façade that had been stretched across the surface; nothing but skin as warm as the summer sun and hair as dark at the unexplored areas of the ocean, but as time has gone by, his gooey-like interior breaks through, attaching its sticky substance to its victims and unwillingly causing them to feel sweet . There’s still so much that Wonwoo feels himself worried about; this boy is too unpredictable, he’s too kind sometimes, but other times too mischievous. Mingyu has aspects that make Wonwoo want to pet him like a small dog, but there’s an element missing in that glint he sometimes has in his eye. Many people use drugs or sex as a way to pull away from their current issues—Wonwoo’s surprised he hasn’t done so himself, but has found better gateways through studying for too many hours, reading in his room, or working an extra shift or two and Chicken for the Seoul, so maybe that’s Mingyu’s gateway, his mischievous glint. But Wonwoo's mind drifts to the previous night and is reminded of Mingyu's clouded mind and his far too blown pupils, causing his heart to droop a little more in his chest.

 

Rolling over is a challenge when snow has soaked through Wonwoo’s clothing, but he does eventually pull himself back together, dusting the white flakes off of his athletic pants in the process. Green cucumber and orange carrots are the only items that have flown out of his reach, but he takes a moment to admire how the bright colors contrast well against the monotonous tones painting the city. Transportation, food, entertainment, all of these elements make the city so tempting to adhere yourself to it, but the beautiful colors of the outside world are blocked from by the endless rows of highrise towers. After a while, Wonwoo begins to forget that there’s an outside world lined with flower-filled fields and color changing trees, and somehow vegetables wrapped in plastic packaging reminds him of such beauties.

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll grab those.” Mingyu flips over and up onto his feet quickly, striding over to where the vegetables lie, sad and lonely. “It’s my fault all of the groceries fell. I just keep falling and making messes, don’t I?” Using the bottoms of his shoes, Mingyu slides his way back to Wonwoo and reaches toward the ground where his knit beanie had fallen off. “Looks like you might’ve lost this too.”

 

Air releases from Mingyu’s mouth in puffs as his breaths condense from the freezing temperatures. Wonwoo’s always thought that the soft puffs of air had been an extension of the cold—some sort of measurement to remind everyone that the weather is still low enough to make them all miserable—but as Mingyu’s face is near his with breath warming the frosted tip of his nose. A beanie soaked in snow isn’t much protection, but no complaints are released as the damp hat is tugged gently over his ears.

 

“Thanks,” Wonwoo says without meeting Mingyu’s eyes, instead he chooses to stare at the pink dusting the apples of his cheeks and finds it a nice contrast to the deep caramel coloring of his skin tone. “I would’ve forgotten it otherwise.”

 

“No problem, really,” Mingyu replies with a shrug. “Like I said, this was my fault anyway.” He smiles in a way that highlights his bright and pointed teeth and softens his rather sharp and mature features. “Now let’s get back to the apartment, my cheek spent too much time lodged in the snow and I think my face might freeze in a frown if I’m outside any longer.”

 

\--------------------

 

“I think I might be in l-”

 

“I think we should break up.” Five sharp words fall out of Seokmin’s mouth and he releases his hands from the balcony’s edge. Words that drill themselves deeply into Wonwoo’s heart and jab unconditionally with each syllable. What absolutely horrible timing, but is there ever perfect timing for a break up?

 

The air is just as frigid as the mood has become between the two, and the first flakes of snow would’ve been romantic had the circumstances been different. Confessing love in front of the most beautifully decorated and secluded area of the park during the first snowfall of the season seems like a scene out of a dream, but that’s all Wonwoo guesses it will ever be: a dream. In dreams there are happy endings, but they never come true, nor are they realistic; that’s why they’re dreams. Reality is where hearts are crushed to the core with dejection, and the future you want with someone is only a fantasy.

 

Tears threaten to burst at the edges of Wonwoo’s sharp eyes as he tries to figure out who all of this could have happened. “I thought, I just, We were,” he spills out sentence beginnings not knowing how to express the thoughts swirling around his head like a tornado. “Just the other day, we had been so good, what happened?”

 

Seokmin reaches out for Wonwoo’s hands but his gesture is immediately rejected. “I know, I know, you’re so wonderful, so smart, so god damn _beautiful_. You’re amazing and beautiful and you deserve someone who can give you the world and I’m—I just can’t be that person for you.”

 

“There’s someone else isn’t there?” Having a job and being a full-time student can place Wonwoo out of the loop sometimes, but he never thought that he’d be unable to read his own boyfriend’s body language. Of course, they haven’t been dating long, but Seokmin never seemed the type to cheap, but then again, everyone has their dirty little secrets. Has he seen Seokmin walking around with other boys? His voice lessons have been running a bit later than usual, but his affections toward Wonwoo seemed to be unwavering.

 

“No! No way would I _ever_ cheat on you, or anyone else!” Seokmin’s eyes widen with a mix of shock and terror realizing how the situation may seem to the other party. “It’s just, you know how I auditioned for the entertainment group? The day that I slept over and had to wear a turtleneck sweater because of…” Soft fingers unconsciously skim across his own neck as Seokmin’s mind drifts off for a moment to his memory of that night. “The casting agents scouted me and said they want me to be a trainee for their company.” A large puff of air releases from Wonwoo’s chest he hadn’t known he’d been holding in. At least he wasn’t cheating, but can a positive note actually be found when going through a break up with your first love? Wonwoo thinks not. “You know how companies are with dating, _especially_ with dating boys. They don’t even let you have cellphones! I didn’t want you to have to have this burden on your shoulders.” Seokmin hesitates before continuing, placing attention to his twiddling thumbs. “This whole world is just so fucked up, ya know? We can’t date people because our younger girl fans won’t give us support the same way they would if they think they can somehow date us—which is seriously impossible I don’t know why these fans think this way—and you know how it is with being in this industry and liking men, it would be impossible for me to get my foot in the door.” He’s rambling now but he can’t seem to stop himself from spilling out all of his thoughts. “I want you to know that I adore you and I care about you _so much_ , and because I care about you, I want you to be happy,” _You make me so happy, Seokmin,_ “and this whole training, and hopefully debuting, process I’m going to go through won’t make you happy,” _I love you Lee Seokmin, please don’t do this to me,_ “so it’s all for the best.”

 

Before Seokmin can reach out a hand of comfort, Wonwoo’s already running away from the loss of his first love.

 

\--------------------

 

“It’s alright, I understand,” Wonwoo replies quietly through his phone before locking it closed.

 

“Who was that?” Asks Mingyu as he tries to strategically place the new groceries into the fairly empty fridge. Everyone’s kitchen is always a maze; plates are in different cabinets, their meats are where your cheeses are, it’s all one big clusterfuck of food. Luckily the fridge is nearly empty so he decides to make his own organizational pattern in hopes that Wonwoo will just stick with it without any complaints.

 

“A little nosey for someone you barely know, yes?”

 

A juice box of melon milk slips from Mingyu’s grip as his aims to place it on the top shelf, hitting the edge of it instead. “Shit—well, I do consider myself a curious person, so if that makes me nosey, I guess I don’t mind,” replies Mingyu with a smirk hidden behind the refrigerator door.

 

“Well if you must know, it was my work.” The tones in Wonwoo’s voice hint at being fairly annoyed. “I was called off for the day due to weather. They don’t want me getting into an accident.” If it were Mingyu, he’d be more than happy to be let off work on a snow-filled day, but all Wonwoo wants is to ignore everyone and all of his thoughts. It’s much easier to place his entire mind into a repeated simple set of tasks instead of spending time at home letting his emotions pull him into another fit of tears and self-hatred.

 

“Oh, sweet!” A loud slam of the refrigerator door closing startles Wonwoo, causing his phone to fly out of his hands and onto the kitchen counter.

 

“You shouldn’t be excited, I didn’t invite you over.” Sometimes it amazes him at how people take him as a complete pushover just because he’s a nice person.

 

After he places the last set of groceries into the pantry, Mingyu sits himself gently onto Wonwoo’s couch. He kicks his long legs up and lets them rest on the living room table. “But you’re sad, and I’m sad because coming down from Molly causes depression, so we’re both sad. Why not be sad together and watch something happy?” He says this so nonchalantly as if he isn’t being panged with constant waves of sadness. Wonwoo looks over with an eyebrow raised, but doesn’t speak. All of the overwhelming smiles, and stupid jokes about radishes, and carrots, and other vegetables, would have never lead Wonwoo to see the sorrow Mingyu was hiding underneath. It goes to show how much he doesn’t know about the boy taking up way too much room, with his much too long limbs, on his couch.

 

“I have the entire Legend of Korra series queued on my Playstation, would that work?” Wonwoo asks, giving into the crooked smile playing upon Wonwoo’s soft lips.

 

“Almost the entirety of the fourth book is a pity party for Korra, but I mean, I still _really_ love that show, so I _guess_ I’m okay with it,” responds Mingyu with a small smile and light glinting off of his eyes.

  
Wonwoo plops himself down onto the couch, controller in hand and legs crossed, before starting up his PS4. Awhile back, the silence between them had seemed awkward, rigid, and uncomfortable. If their silences before had a scent it would’ve been a mix between milk sitting out in the sun for a few hours and rotten fish. This afternoon, their silence is a little more fluid, and a little less sturdy. Somehow with Wonwoo not hating Mingyu and Mingyu comforting Wonwoo, their silence now has a scent of fresh laundry and dust—not the best scent, but it’s an improvement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANNNNDDDD I HAVE FINALLY RETURNED FROM THE DEAD. Ugh i'm so sorry this update took forever, and I hope having a fairly long chapter makes up for it?? I could blame it on me working 8 hour shifts 5 days a week, or I could blame it on me preparing for kcon and then needing time to recover after it happened, but in all honestly I really struggled with writing this chapter. I started to feel like this fic wasn't good and I wasn't confident with my writing. I was just going through a lot with this and so this chapter and it took awhile for me to write it all out. I also wanted to add to the break up so there's that. sorry for how this chapter ends?? ALSO: we have an end chapter now! i've finally planned out all of the chapters so now you can just count down how many are left until it's finished.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and as always, I love to see your comments 
> 
> you can also yell at me for not updating on my social medias: [ Tumblr ](http://rimjob-queen.tumblr.com) / [ Twitter ](https://twitter.com/HoForHobi)


	11. Mistletoe Mania

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanie-centric Christmas Shenanigans.

**Christmas Eve Day.**

 

With December, comes endless days of grey skies above, leaving the people below feeling dull and lethargic. With December, comes the peak of consumerism as children whine in front of glossy window displays about the toys they so desperately long for. With December, comes too many cups of hot chocolate, too many gingerbread houses, and too many hours spent studying for finals. With December, comes confessions of love, holding hands as the snow softly falls, and spending hours walking through decorated streets while admiring the festive lights strategically hung atop the awnings of buildings. With December also comes the loneliness of being single on a holiday that seems to revolve around couples cozying up by the fireplace while they sip on thick cups of horchata, and Wonwoo can’t wait for it to finally be over.

 

As always, the snow hits earlier in the week, instead of on Christmas Eve like everyone hopes for, leaving the sidewalk lined with brownish-grey slush. More than once, Wonwoo’s had to catch himself from slipping into the nearest lamp post or street sign due to the black ice hiding on the sidewalk as it waits for its next innocent victim. It’s been a frantic rush to pull everything together at the last minute. Soonyoung wants a large remote-controlled car, and of course Wonwoo loves to wait until he’s stressed beyond belief to buy presents. To him, it’s such a waste to take time out of his day to celebrate a holiday that he’s never been truly fond of in the first place. It’s all a hectic mess, but it wouldn’t feel much like Christmas without half-hearted last minute shopping and Wonwoo’s inability to produce a gift that’s worthy of any praise.

 

Year after year he finds a gift which he deems fit for the unlucky subject he chooses—which until recently had been only his mother but has now branched out to the unfortunate hand of Soonyoung—only to end up disappointing both those who he has given gifts to and himself. Nothing hurts the heart quite as much as seeing forced smiles stretch across someone’s face followed by the fake sentence, “I love it!” when it’s all-too-apparent that they are not in the least bit satisfied with what they have been given.

 

This year, Wonwoo is determined not to be in first place for the worst gift given (even if he’s second to last, it will still be an improvement). Strolling through some fancy overpriced soap shop he thinks he mother would like, Wonwoo lifts each soap bar he sees and inhales a decent amount of scent from the waxy chunk. It’s of no use. They all smell incredibly similar, and he’s sure there’s bound to be a difference between Peachy Passion and Apricot Surprise, but after fifteen different soaps, it’s all one large blur of expensive, fruity, vegan body products.

 

_She’s old. 47 is old, right? What if she wants some kind of foot cream? What the hell do old ladies do in order to keep a youthful glow? Wait. Can old people even have a youthful glow?_

 

A frustrated grunt escapes from Wonwoo’s lips as he rakes his hands roughly through his hair. There are too many products in the store, too many people crowded around the too many products, and too many questions he has to ask for the too little employees scheduled to work this afternoon. Now that Wonwoo’s had time to process his thoughts after nearly having a mental breakdown, he can’t, for the life of him, track down a single employee within the store. Maybe they bailed because the holiday crowds ended up becoming too much for them; Wonwoo wouldn’t blame him if this were to be true. But alas, he spots a tall, slim figure with an apron tied around his waist, restocking some sort of glittery bath gel near the corner of the store. It's as if he's deliberately avoiding the slightly agitated customers for the safety of his own well-being.

 

_Working during the holidays must be a bitch._

 

Despite feeling bad for the guy in the corner, Wonwoo still walks over to approach him since he’s a clueless gift giver who is nearly helpless in these types of situations.

 

“Um, excuse me?” Wonwoo attempts to grab the employee’s attention but the constant chattering in the background only blurs out his soft voice. “EXCUSE ME?!” He tries once more, this time it’s a bit too loud and startles the poor boy restocking the body gels.

 

The glittery goop ends up scattered across the ground, which actually working as a brightener for the dull cement flooring.

 

“Fucking shit,” exclaims the worker as he drops to his knees in a panic, quickly trying to scoop up his mess.

 

Wonwoo quickly follows the worker and drops to the floor in order to help. He hits his knees a little hard causing him to wince in pain. This is just all too embarrassing, making it a bit too hard for him to make eye contact with the employee as he profusely apologizes. “I’m so so _so_ sorry. I can pay you or whatever for the damages and troubles I’ve caused.”

 

“Don’t sweat it, I’m fairly clumsy.” The employee turns his head and and offers a friendly, crooked smile, paired with sharp, white canines that Wonwoo’s grown accustomed to seeing at least once a week, now. “Oh, hey.” Mingyu’s eyes slightly crinkle in the way that makes them shine a little brighter as he greets Wonwoo. His voice reminds Wonwoo of _I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter_ , so soft, spreadable, and creamy that it’d be shocking to find an actual human behind it. How Wonwoo still is not completely able to place his voice to his face after all of these months must mean he’s incredibly daft. “I’m always breaking something when I’m around you.”

 

“But this time it's my fault,” corrects Wonwoo as a tinge of pink brushes against his cheeks. If Mingyu ever asks about it, he’ll blame his sudden rush of color on the cold that he’s been long since removed. His ears are beginning to burn and he doesn’t know whether it’s from his knit beanie or distressed butterflies cluttering up his chest from embarrassment. Studying Mingyu’s outfit, he’s not dressed too differently from his normal attire; a simple black cardigan draped loosely over his thin white t-shirt with a pair of tight black jeans that hug his hips and thighs extremely well. Wonwoo would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous of how Mingyu is able to turn a casual outfit into something that looks so stylish. _Every fucking time. This kid…_

 

“So, uh, Lush, eh?” Asks Wonwoo as he glances around the overcrowded store. The areas are organized but at the same time, a bit scattered, as well as clumped together, and while it all seems to have order, everything feels out of place. With every scent packed into such a small room, all Wonwoo can smell is the color fuschia, musk, and sandalwood. Mingyu’s scent suddenly clicks together like pieces of a puzzle: toothpicks and vegan soaps. A combo Wonwoo would’ve never expected, but it somehow isn’t surprising.

 

“Yeah,” Mingyu pauses, smiling shyly. “They pay pretty well and I always get free products to take home. If no one knows you work here, but you have a lot of their products, they think you have money because, damn, this shit is expensive.”

 

“Yeah, it’s a bit spendy, but I’m trying to buy a gift for my mom and I have no idea what to get her,” explains Wonwoo as he mindlessly grabs a pink and white massage bar from a silver bin. He gives it a quick sniff and scrunches his nose in distaste. It’s all too sweet, like a mixture of vanilla scented candles and sugar cookies drizzled in cheesecake frosting. “What does a massage bar do anyway? It just looks like expensive bumpy soap to me.”

 

Mingyu’s eyes light up as he laughs and grabs the massage bar from Wonwoo’s light grip. “Would you like me to demonstrate?”

 

The sticky sweet scent of the bar still lingers in Wonwoo’s mind which makes him quick to decline Mingyu’s offer. “No thanks. Maybe another time.”

 

“Do you think your mom would like a bath bomb, then? It’s kind of what we’re known for,” replies Mingyu as he sets down the sweetly scented bar and reaches for a white chalky object. Hints of blues, reds, yellows, and pinks dot the white bath bomb, reminding Wonwoo of the jawbreakers his mother would buy from him as a kid. He doubts the bath product in front of him will taste or smell like the sticky artificial flavoring of his favorite childhood candy, and he won’t sample it to find out. “This one is called Dragon’s Egg. The smell reminds me of you, so maybe if she had it, she wouldn’t miss you so much.” Mingyu tosses the bath bomb in his hands a few times before handing it off for Wonwoo to smell. Lifting the product to his nose, Wonwoo immediately feels at ease. _Lemon._

 

“This smells like home.” Admits Wonwoo. These past few weeks have been some of the roughest he’s dealt with in awhile. He’s never experienced heartbreak, mostly because he’s been avoiding putting himself into a situation where he could have his heart broken, and he blames it on his own naive mind, thinking that he could keep himself distanced. Now, all he wants to do is crawl onto his favorite spot on his favorite worn-down couch reading his favorite book while inhaling the simple scent of his home.

 

Mingyu observes Wonwoo’s seemingly empty expression, his eyebrows are only slightly knit, and there’s a glint in his eye that strikes a chord in his soft heart. “It looks like you might need this one more than your mom.” He plays it off with a light laugh, but it doesn’t denote the sincerity of the statement. Picking through a few different bins until he pulls out a blue bath bomb that looks like it fits the holiday season, icy and cool. “This one’s Frozen, like the highly overrated movie. It has grapefruit oil, neroli oil, and rose oil and when it fizzes out, it looks like ice and snowflakes. Very fitting for the Christmas holiday, don’t ya think?”

 

Taking the bath bomb from Mingyu’s hand, Wonwoo lifts it to his nose and is immediately engulfed in a whirlwind of citrus scents. His mother would really like this one, he thinks as he moves the chalky feeling bath bomb with his frozen fingers. “This one’s nice, but it’s a little inexpensive for a gift, is there anything else I could add?” He scans the bath bombs and bubble bars as until he comes across another blue item, but this one has two pink stars in the middle. Lifting it to his nose, the scent is similar to the bomb he’s picked, but underneath the grapefruit is a hint of cocoa butter. The two items will mesh well together if given as a gift, so he keeps the items in his hands, not knowing exactly where to put them.  

 

“It looks like you’re gonna need more than two hands,” jokes Mingyu lightly as he makes his way through the crowded store toward the entrance, lightly tugging Wonwoo along by the edge of his sleeve. The warmth of the other’s strong hands radiates lightly across Wonwoo’s wrist while he allows Mingyu to guide him along. Mingyu pulls out a wicker basket and motions for Wonwoo to place his items in the empty holder. Once he does just that, Wonwoo realizes that his basket looks lonely, like it hasn’t reached it’s full potential—if baskets somehow had a holding potential, this one surely deserves to reach it—and he frowns at the empty spaces left at the bottom. His eyes probe through the room in search of random products because at this point, he’s just desperate to get a gift together, and he is running out of time before he has to get home and ready himself for a night that he is definitely not excited for.

 

Just a couple of drinks out on the town with Soonyoung and Junhui during Christmas Eve, what could _possibly_ go wrong?

 

 _Ocean Salt Scrub? Yeah, sure, whatever, that one looks good enough._ Grabbing the largest tub size he sees, Wonwoo tosses it haphazardly into his basket, not thinking of how delicate the chalky bath bomb and bubble bar are. The basics are now covered; skincare, bath care multiplied by two, and nothing else. Okay, so maybe the basics aren’t quite covered yet, but what more can someone buy at a fancy soap store other than scrubs and bath bombs? As far as he knows, that’s what they’re known for, not makeup and hair products. In a hurry, he picks out a spicy smelling red soap chunk named _Karma_ and desperately hopes the name isn’t a sign that his lack of effort when choosing the last two gifts will come back to bite him in the ass in a couple of weeks.

 

Miraculously, another worker files out of the back, quickly tying his apron and heads toward the empty check-out unit where impatient customers have been waiting for at least seven minutes, since Mingyu is apparently too tied up washing customers’ hands with his favorite fancy soaps to scan items behind a counter. It’s lucky for Wonwoo that the people in front of him were only buying a couple of items, causing the line to move faster than he initially expected. Just one more customer until he’s finally out of the store where almost every person in line attaches the words ,“and I’m vegan,” to the end of their personal introductions.

 

As Wonwoo approaches the employee behind the counter, he admires his deep auburn colored hair and high cheekbones, but he can do without the cheerful, flirtatious attitude. “Hey there darling.” The boy smiles and his cheeks squish his eyes into small crescents. “Find everything alright?”

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo says with little-to-no confidence in his speech while he unloads his basket.

 

“Are you sure, sweetie? You don’t seem too sure.” Behind the counter, the employee simply types in each item, but slowly, as if to give Wonwoo some time to think just in case he decides to impulsively change his mind. “Who helped you out today? I don’t think they did  a good job if you’re a mess like this.” Little did the boy know that Wonwoo is actually a mess all of the time, not just emotionally, but his entire life seems to be this way.

 

“It’s the human tree with limbs over there.” Wonwoo points to the middle of the room where Mingyu is flashing his sharp smile toward a potential buyer.

 

“Mingyu? He flirts like crazy with the customers, which makes him one of the best employees here, aside from me of course,” the employee replies with a wink. “He sells the most shit, but usually these people come in for bath bombs, not hair soap bars. He’s impractical, aggravating, annoying, everything I am, but somehow worse.”

 

Wonwoo gives him a small smile as he hands over his card, hoping to end this transaction as fast as possible. Time feels like it’s passing by at the speed of extremely slow and all he can focus on is the soft fingers lingering against his for just a bit too long as he’s handed back his debit card.

 

“Thanks!” Exclaims Wonwoo a little too quickly as he turns and beelines toward the exit.

 

“See ya later cutie!” The boy calls to Wonwoo just before he exits the glass doors and enters the freezing gates of Christmas shopping hell once again.

 

Somehow, the sidewalks have doubled in crowd levels, leaving Wonwoo to elbow through hoards of people as he tries to make his way to the market across the street. It’s a tough battle since his tall and thin frame has him awkwardly stumbling about, which is only amplified by the sheets of ice coating the sidewalk. He makes it inside, but only by a sliver of luck since he’s nearly died ten times in the five minutes it takes to get there.

 

E Mart is nice, but it’s also insanely crowded and not worth his time. Ahjummas are lined up with their finest foods, waiting to check out and prepare dishes for tomorrow evening. This only reminds Wonwoo that it’s the first Christmas he’ll be spending away from his mother and his heart drops a bit. It’s okay though! He bought her random expensive soaps! All is right in the world! Or at least he continues to tell himself this as he trudges through the refrigerated milk section.

 

It makes his whole body shiver just by the frosty air that escapes in the two seconds it normally takes him to grab the milk from it’s spot. Heat from the vents is obsolete while strolling through freezer and fridge aisles and Wonwoo thinks he might just slow down to a complete stop, frozen in place, before he can find the items he needs. _Strawberry milk? No. Honey_ _Butter Milk? What the hell?_ Multiple questionable flavors are skimmed as he searches for—there it is! Jugs stacked in front of jugs of only alcoholic eggnog. Suddenly Wonwoo has a little more hope that his Christmas Eve with Soonyoung and Junhui will end up at least okay.

 

That moment of hope is short lived because as soon as he gathers up three jugs into his arms, his phone begins to go off, stop, then ding a couple times. _So much for not needing a cart._ Usually no one calls or sends him texts, and when they do, it's either the group chat, which he rarely partakes in, or something important. Since no one other than Soonyoung from the group chat calls him, he knows it might be serious. In a rushed manner, Wonwoo sets the milk jugs on the nearest shelf and grabs his phone out from his back pocket.

 

One missed call. One voicemail. 3 unread text messages.

 

 **Hit the Kwon:** yoooooooooooooo! SOOOO CHANGE OF PLANS!

 

 **Hit the Kwon:** we’re gonna party with the homies at meanhao’s place!

 

 **Hit the Kwon:** I HOPE YOU HAVE ENOUGH PRESENTS FOR EVERYONE! ;) xx

 

Looking at the eggnog on the shelf, he makes a mental check of how many people will be attending. _Minghao, Jeonghan, Jisoo, Junhui, Jihoon, Seungcheol, Hoshi, and Shoe Trees. Thank God I already have that remote control car checked off my list._

 

He’s able to balance 7 jugs of eggnog to the nearest cart, tossing them in without much care, and hopes they’ll accept alcoholic beverages as a token of his friendship. Choco-pies, choco-mushrooms, and some pumpkin taffies are thrown into the basket as well, just to add a little more than only alcohol to his ‘gifts’.

 

_God damn it Kwon Soonyoung._

 

_\--------------------_

 

**Christmas Eve**

 

Mingyu sits on the edge of his bed, checking over his outfit a few more times before deciding that what he’s wearing is a complete fuckboy standard of black, tight as the realest friends he wishes he had in primary school, ripped jeans and a leather jacket, paired with black high-tops and a black graphic tee. After all of these hours he’s spent trying to make his appearance look appealing after a long shift, he has only succeeded in outdoing himself on his previous attempts of trying to not look like a shitty trashcan of a human being. It’s as if each attempt at looking presentable has been an evolution until he’s ended up in his current form of: actual jersey-shore-level douchebag. He needs to change, and he needs to make his change quickly because the first guest sounds like they’re arriving as the heavy knocks on the front door echo through his room. At the speed of light, he changes his outfit into an oversized black sweater paired with lightly distressed dark-wash jeans, ruffling his hair in the process in order to soften his once hardened asshole look. In a matter of seconds, he’s devolved into just another stressed out college student on holiday; tired and ready for a bed before 10pm.

 

There’s always this way Mingyu feels about himself when he looks in the mirror. Every time he sees his reflection, he can’t tell if he loves what he sees, or if he’s putting up a front and completely despises what he’s turned into. Has he become so superficial and self absorbed that he has to endlessly change his outfit choices just for a lame Christmas party where he’ll probably become so plastered that it’ll all become a hazy memory in the future? What’s the point in trying to look like the most handsome person in a crowd of his closest friends? It’s not as if they could give more than a quick once over and a comment on what he’s wearing before they decide to move onto more interesting topics like League of Legends. So he doesn’t understand why he’s still trying so incredibly hard in order to have people adore and praise his physique and style.

 

When did he become like this? When did his need for constant gratification establish itself into Mingyu’s brain? Was it because his girlfriend had broken his heart? Most likely not since she was just a toy to begin with, something easily manipulated like puddy in his hands; obedient to his every touch and command. He had still been extremely superficial when they were dating, so what had started it all? How is it that his self esteem is so low, when all he does is think about his good looks? But that’s just it, isn’t it? For years, just placing himself out there as the one who had the best looks and the tightest pants and the best ass hadn’t gotten him very far, only the attention of anyone who wanted to sleep with him. Now, he doesn’t even have the best ass, due to Seungcheol and his ridiculously thick physique, in whatever this group is he’s placed himself into because of that lemon-scented idiot and his roommate’s extremely social boyfriend. But he sighs and drops his current thoughts of self pity, places on his mental and personality masks tightly, and heads out to greet the first guests of the night.

 

Outside of his room, the area is surrounded by a mixed scent of cinnamon and pine needles; a mixture of holiday candles that should never be placed together. Decorations are splayed across the walls, and presents are spread out underneath the unnatural looking plastic tree that sits gently in the corner of the living room. This almost makes him retreat back into his quarters, but Seungcheol is already un-slinging his arms from atop Jihoon’s shoulders and re-slinging them around Mingyu’s back. Seungcheol’s thick meaty arms don’t just look sturdy, but they feel sturdy too. There’s almost a fatherly feel to the way he hugs, and for once, Mingyu decides to weakly hug back. A musky scent drifts from Seungcheol’s ridiculously hideous christmas sweater and cuts out the horrible mix of holiday candles in the back.

 

Once Seungcheol releases Mingyu, he can finally get a better look at the fuzzy disaster that’s draped around the man’s body. The soft black sweater looks normal, but only until the sleeves hit his shoulders because as soon as anyone’s eyes drift to the middle, they’ll reach a green Christmas tree with real tinsel, ornaments, and lights, which are actually blinking, attached. Surprisingly, none of it is too discomforting when he hugs Mingyu, but it’s definitely discomforting to look at. Seungcheol drapes his arm back around Jihoon, squeezing him in a little by the shoulder. Judging by the looks of the small boy trapped in his embrace, he’s not happy about his boyfriend’s sweater either. Somehow Seungcheol managed to leave the house looking like a middle-aged dad _and_ was able to convince Jihoon to wear a reindeer headband—this man must have super powers.

 

_Where the hell is Minghao? This whole party was his fucking idea._

 

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Two figures emerge from Minghao’s bedroom dressed up in the most ridiculous garb. Minghao is in the tightest Santa Claus costume Mingyu has ever seen. The red is too vibrant against the creamy white puffs that line his chest and wrists. If he stares directly at it for too long, Mingyu thinks he might just get a piercing migraine. As for the outfit in general, it doesn’t really do much good for his boney structure, but he’s not as distracting at the boy next to him.

 

“Fucking hell, Jeonghan.” Mingyu is almost completely done with the entire situation just by the couple’s ridiculous entrance. “That’s the wrong elf, you idiot.”

 

Jeonghan mocks anger and pulls an arrow from his holster, placing it in his bow and aiming it at Mingyu. Although he releases the arrow, he’s a poor shot, and punctures a small hole in the wall. Minghao laughs as Jeonghan then puts his props back into their proper place and lets out a small chuckle. “What’s so wrong with Legolas? His hair is long, blonde, and flowing, like mine. He’s incredibly handsome and he’s always glowing. I’d like to think that he was molded after me.” He smiles as he gracefully flips his hair away from his shoulder with his hand.

 

“Legolas was created before you were born, you imbecile,” interrupts Jisoo as he bursts through the door without knocking. A sigh of relief sweeps out of Mingyu’s lips when he sees that he’s finally not the only one wearing normal clothing to this party. An oversized pink sweater stretches past the boy’s hands, doubling as oven mitts for the, most likely cold by now, pot of stew sitting in his grasp. Light-wash denim jeans compliment the sweater well, and he has a feeling that he’ll be socializing with Jisoo for most of the night. The others are just a little too bizarre for his current mood that consists of exhausted and sad.

 

Mingyu walks a little toward Jisoo before gesturing for the boy to follow him to the kitchen, away from the madness ensuing between the two couples trying to make a drinking event out of the Sorry! board games lying in front of them. Before he even says a word, Jisoo has placed his stew in the fridge and is pulling out two beers. He offers one to Mingyu standing by the kitchen counter, who gladly accepts the shitty PBR party park can. “This is going to be a long night isn’t it?” Jisoo asks, already seeming to know the answer.

 

Mingyu looks up only to see a string on mistletoe hanging strategically above the two, but he decides not to mention it as he goes back to sipping his beer.

 

The two chat back and forth casually, not really interested in each other’s answers, but happy to fill the room with some noise that isn’t Seungcheol talking about which body parts he likes the best, and what names he has given them.

 

“...he’s like my little friend,” the already drunk Seungcheol drones on as he points to a small freckle underneath his third rib cage. It must be some personal record, to be this plastered only thirty minutes into the beginning of the holiday function. Then again, he could be Jeonghan, who lies gracefully on top of Minghao’s thin thighs, mouth wide open and snoring, with his hair splayed out everywhere as he dozes off into dreamland. Despite the pumping music, the board games, and the booze, the holiday party everyone had hyped up, isn’t living up to anyone’s expectations. It’s too much like Jisoo and Mingyu are observing one of the wretched dinner parties that married couples attend to pretend that they’re having fun, but in reality they’re almost always in bed by nine and talk about old people stuff like finances and oatmeal.

 

“Heeeelllllllooooooooo you raging homosexuals, the party has arrived from your only straight friends!” A head of golden hair pops through the front door, followed in suit by his silver-haired partner in crime. They’re all smiles, Soonyoung’s cheeks somehow looking chubbier than before, even though he claims to have lost weight. His eyes perform that wonderful disappearing act where he looks so happy that his whole face has absorbed the light of the sun, only to reflect it back through his bright shining features. Junhui, on the other hand is tall, slender, as incredibly handsome as ever; that sharp nose of his can cut anyone like a knife, Mingyu believes it to be almost as sharp as his jawline. Their outfits are always amazing and Mingyu makes a mental note to ask about where they shop a little later on in the night. Both of the boys have slightly rosy cheeks and the glassy shine to their eyes is a clear indicator that they spent time to pregame before heading up the stairs.

 

“You sure dye your hair a lot for the two token straights here.” Minghao juts in with smirk skating across his lips.

 

“Oh shut your butt Mr. Mean.” Soonyoung finally speaks, “At least we aren’t boring like you and your sleeping counterpart.” At this, Minghao shakes his boyfriend awake and off of his lap; Jeonghan still groggy and unaware of his surroundings as he places himself into an upright position.

 

Jeonghan whines and shoves his fists into the Santa suit material spread across Minghao’s chest. Somehow he’s able to grab some fabric and bundle it in his hands, despite how tight the outfit is. “But babyyy, I just wanna sleeeeep.” This gesture makes everyone in the room nearly gag at how disgustingly needy the older boy is.

 

“You’re the hosts of this party and you’re making it more dull than Wonwoo’s personality.” As always, Jihoon states his opinions without any thoughts of repercussions for his actions, seeing as no one is willing to fight the tough little nugget, for they will surely lose.

 

A snap of a cap is heard behind the cracked door. Wonwoo soon enters holding a stolen shopping carrier filled with what would of been seven unopened containers of alcoholic eggnog and other sweet treats if he hadn’t begun to open and chug the contents of the seventh one. Once he finishes his quick chug, he wipes the excess liquid from the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand, and continues to stare down Lee Jihoon. “And for that comment, you don’t get your Christmas gifts.” Wonwoo: the boy who actually has the balls to stand up to the small yet adorable tyrant.

 

A silence fills the room, but only for a second because a large burp to erupts from the inner depths of Seungcheol’s stomach. A once strong and steady Jihoon is becoming as bright and red as Minghao’s get-up, and it looks like someone might’ve actually won a fight against him, even if it wasn’t really a fight at all. It’s all a fit of giggles and boasting laughter from everyone surrounding the antlered anger ball,  but it’s also nice. Mingyu likes to think he hates this group of misfit toys, but after a drink or two he enjoys how they bicker. How they always laugh at Soonyoung doing something utterly stupid and ridiculous. How they bond over board games and their interests and disinterests in music. Once again, Mingyu finds solace in insobriety, he wishes it weren’t like this, but it is, and for now that’s okay because he’s smiling, and it’s genuine.

 

Behind him, angry crashes of bottles and tupperware shake on the refrigerator’s shelves due to Wonwoo’s heavy shoves of the eggnog into an area where there’s not enough space to house them. Under his breath, he’s muttering words that Mingyu can’t quite make out, but he thinks he hears something along the lines of “Mini sausage-legged entitled piece of shit,” and, “Boy’s so whipped,” and “Fuck off.”

 

For only a moment, Mingyu has time to take in the look that Wonwoo’s sporting for tonight’s festivities. Underneath the black jacket he’d been wearing earlier is another monochromatic scheme of sorts, not surprising to Mingyu seeing as that’s all Wonwoo seems to wear these days. A white and grey striped shirt, with sleeves shoved up to rest on the middle of his forearms, hangs from his thin shoulders, but hugs him in all of the right areas. His dark blue jeans are so deep in color that they nearly blend in with the black socks he’s wearing and Mingyu’s upset that he didn’t get to see Wonwoo standing in the black Timberlands that sit unfilled by the entryway. Overall Wonwoo looks like a delicate dark prince who walks the runway on the side. He might not see it, whether it be for his actual poor vision or not, but Mingyu does, and it’s nice to see no one else is taking the time to admire the view, so he might as well be Wonwoo’s number one fan for the time being.

 

Wonwoo curses as he continues to unsuccessfully try and shove all of the eggnog jugs into the fridge. Before he’s able to completely destroy the refrigerator, Mingyu steps in and grabs the last two jugs away from Wonwoo’s area, then places them on the counter with the other alcoholic beverages. They’ve really gone all out for this event, especially seeing as half of them are lightweights and Jisoo only drinks water after a beer or two; bitter canned beers crowd the pull out sections of the fridge where the produce should be, various bottles of flavored soju are sprawled across the counter along with other types of hard alcohol, and there are five different types of carbonated beverages and juices out, designated for mixing and chasing. If they’d invited more people then they’d actually have a real party, but for now it’s just a rambunctious bout of college-aged boys singing, others might categorize as yelling,  “Let It Snow” off-key in the living room.

 

“Don’t worry about fitting all of these in the fridge. I’m sure someone here will drink it all up,” reassures Mingyu as he helps Wonwoo up from the kitchen floor, which proves to be a little more difficult than expected due to the excess chugging of eggnog that had happened in the doorway. “Hey are you okay?”

 

The entirety of Wonwoo’s upper body becomes one large shrug, ending with slumped shoulders as he leans his hip against the kitchen counter. “I’m alright, Jihoon’s just a prick sometimes. It’s fine. _I’m fine._ ”

 

Looking up Mingyu sees that he’s under the mistletoe again, but decides to not speak on it once more. Instead, he rests his eyes on the shining wire rims of Wonwoo’s glasses. “Are you sure? You don’t look too fine.”

 

“Thanks,” coldly replies Wonwoo with his eyes averted toward the kitchen flooring.

 

“I mean, you look great, but you look a little tense.” There’s a shortness of breath that carves itself into Mingyu’s chest. He’s usually able to soothe and comfort and smooth talk his way into the minds of others, but he can’t break down whatever wall Wonwoo has so diligently built between them. Wonwoo’s already obviously buzzed from earlier, but maybe he just needs another chug or two more to loosen up and enjoy the company of friends, it works for most people, so Mingyu pours each of them a large drink and hands one out in Wonwoo’s direction. “Will an eggnog drinking competition help ease the tension you have in your, well, everywhere?”

 

Sighing, Wonwoo weakly accepts the offer and takes the red plastic cup from Mingyu’s grasp. Their fingers touch for a minute, and Wonwoo’s are clammy but freezing, so the alcohol should warm him up a bit. It’s strange how Mingyu feels the need to curl those cold and clammy hands into his own, but he shakes off the feeling and tries to hone in his focus.

 

“On three.” There’s a widening in Wonwoo’s eyes suggesting that he might back out, so Mingyu hurriedly rushes through his counts. “ONETWOTHREE!” And they’re off to the races! In the beginning, Wonwoo is gulping down the thick and sticky-sweet drink’s contents as fast as possible, but Mingyu’s become a pro from the sickening amount of parties he’s attended. The poor boy is no match for him and Mingyu’s once full plastic cup of eggnog is being slammed on the kitchen counter while Wonwoo struggles to finish his own beverage. Five seconds later and Wonwoo is slamming his cup on the kitchen counter and wiping the milky drink from his lips once more.

 

“I’m not even surprised you beat me, but I’m proud of myself for finishing so quickly,” Wonwoo replies with ease. Both of the cups crush under his grip as he takes them from the counter and tosses them in the trash. “You’re the king of alcohol, yes?”

 

Mingyu shrugs modestly, and can’t actually deny there being any falsity in his question, but he’s also not too sure there’s a way to measure who can be the ruler of a widely abused substance. Wonwoo’s eyes form into small crescents and his nose crinkles in the adorable way that moves his glasses up a little too high on his nose bridge as he laughs at his own teasing jokes. They’re horrible, every single pun and joke that Mingyu’s ever heard come from Wonwoo’s mouth is completely cringe inducing, and yet he can’t get enough of them.

 

When he looks around the open living room area, he finds all of the boys huddled in a circle, engrossed in an intense game of King’s cup. They’re screaming at each other, and nearly all are double teaming except for the lone ranger, Jisoo, who is actually having the best game out of them all. The Bible of Holy Jisoos Christ  must actually be on his side because his luck is almost always off of the charts. Jeonghan and Minghao seem to be half into the game and more into each other. It’s been quite a few months since the two have started to date, and Mingyu swears they’re stuck in an eternal honeymoon stage; all kisses and bright eyes, it’s absolutely sickening. Mostly, the heated rivalry is between the Jihoon, Seungcheol couple, and the Double Trouble Team Rocket of too much energy duo, Soonyoung and Junhui.

 

Maybe it’s the strength of the rum that’s hidden inside of the eggnog suddenly hitting Mingyu at once, but he finds himself melting under the intense heat of the lights and bodies filling their small apartment. The feeling buzzes throughout his insides and he’s beginning to feel suffocated by all of the noise. Pin prick needles attack his skin, leaving goosebumps across the surface, and he thinks he might be in need of some fresh air from outside. He finds himself making some half-assed apology to Wonwoo, promising he’ll be back to join the others in their riveting game of whatever they’ll be onto by the time he’s returned, putting on a jacket and slippers, and walking through his front door.

 

Outside, soft, fresh and powdery snow begins to settle and stick at the edge of the walkway’s railings. Frosty air hits Mingyu’s cheeks and hair, cooling his body’s temperature back to normalcy. Silence greets him as soon as he shuts the door completely. On his phone, his clock reads 11:57pm on December 24th, which means in three minutes it will be a white Christmas after all; his first one. He teeters over to the edge of the walkway, desperate to touch the snowflakes that fall lightly and gracefully from above. They melt on command after quickly announcing their presence on Mingyu’s long, tan fingers, leaving only droplets of water to remain. Cold but relaxing, an aesthetic he’s grown to adore.

 

A tap on his shoulder shakes him from his daydreams of making snow angels and sliding down hills in a sled even though he knows that there will not be enough snow in the morning for sledding to be had. Turning around, he finds himself facing the same tall, thin, sharp, yet soft and a little more intoxicated boy he was facing only a few minutes ago.

 

The words are almost a slur, but Mingyu hears them as clear as day. “It’s rude to leave someone alone underneath mistletoe on Christmas Eve.”

 

Eleven words are spoken before Wonwoo grabs onto the sides of Mingyu’s face and pulls him down into a sloppy kiss. Eleven words are spoken before Mingyu’s cold lips are engulfed by the soft warmth of Wonwoo’s. Eleven words are spoken before Mingyu’s lost in a mix of cinnamon, rum, and nutmeg. To Mingyu everything feels hot, yet freezing. He’s melting, but still continues to stand his ground. Everything’s right, but it’s all wrong.

 

When he pictured this moment on days where he couldn’t focus in class, he thought of the smell of lemon and the sticky sweet taste of vanilla, or maybe it was chai, or some melon fruit; something comforting that his body had been forgetting what he tasted like that one evening. He didn’t picture himself being kissed frantically, saliva hitting his chin, his cheek, nearly everywhere but his mouth. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen, but it’s already happening, and Mingyu doesn’t know how to stop it so he continues to messily kiss back until Wonwoo abruptly stops.

  
In the blink of an eye, Wonwoo’s wiping his mouth with his arm for the third time, leaving Mingyu alone in the fifth floor walkway after they’ve kissed for the second time, and stumbling drunkenly into his apartment only to pass out on the floor for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD BINCHES. Lol this has been such a stressful semester. study abroad shit, horrible housing situations, SO MANY ASSIGNMENTS IM LOSING MY MIND, FAM. this definitely was planned, until the end, and I kind of just switched things around in my plot a little bit. I'm so sorry for taking 5 billion years to update, but i'm BACK FOR Y'ALL! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Lol halfway through it's so obvious that my writing got lazy. 
> 
> i somehow felt like all of the party scenes that involve meanie are needing to be reserved for mingyu, but this is the last one.
> 
> (i'll probably edit my mistakes some other time)
> 
> Also if you haven't noticed already, i've put seungkwan and hansol within this story, but only if you SQUINT with hansol, and he was in a previous chapter. seungkwan is very obvious in this.
> 
> [ Tumblr ](http://rimjob-queen.tumblr.com) / [ Twitter ](https://twitter.com/HoForHoshi)


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